The Swelle Life

(Not so) 'Pretty': Theories on the Celeb 'Powder Face'

Trendstoppers: Ashley Judd, Nicole Kidman and Uma Thurman

Bad makeup...why does seeing it on others make us feel kinda good inside?  There are a ton of pictures out there of celebrities with no makeup, bad makeup and makeup flubs and we just eat it up!  This week we're addressing the recent phenomenon of celebrities showing up on the red carpet with chalky white powder all over their faces.  Why does this keep happening, and if it's happening to them - having had a professional makeup artist to blame - how can we ensure that it won't happen to us?

While I can't tell you the exact cause for this makeup mishap, I do have some theories from personal experience.  Yes, this has happened to me, but I have been lucky enough to catch it in the chair and thankfully have had no one walk the red carpet looking a hot mess!  I have heard many speculations as to why this could be, blaming it on everything from a bad makeup artist to a drug problem!

My career in television has really taught me a lot, particularly doing makeup on athletes and ex-players - needless to say boys sweat a lot!  I'll be doing a makeup, the guy is sweaty (sounds fun, I know!), I prep his skin, do his makeup, blend it all and when I'm finished, I notice this white powder resurfacing all over the place.  What I've figured out is that if you perspire, the powder resurfaces and when the skin dries, the powder sits on top of the skin.  It's really unfortunate as it looks terrible if it goes unnoticed, but is easily re-blended back into the skin.

Another idea is that the new HD microfine powders are so light that they are not getting blended properly into the skin and their light diffusing properties may be reflecting off the flash of the camera. 

Lastly, SPF could be the culprit.  You should never wear SPF with flash photography as it reflects light causing your makeup to look white in pictures.  This could include foundations and powders that have SPF in them.

Whatever the reason, it sure makes us feel better that makeup can be tricky and even the pros don't always get it right! 

- Corinne O'Brien

In two weeks our resident makeup expert Corinne O'Brien returns to answer your beauty and makeup questions. If you would like to submit yours to be answered in a future column just use the Contact link in the menu in the banner!

Cupcake Monday! The April Fools Edition

I would just like to preface this post for those only seeing it now, and say this is the worst Cupcake Monday post I have ever done. I am aware of it.

I'm a little late on this (imagine that?!) but I didn't think of looking to see what was out there for April Fools cupcakes until today. A recent post would qualify, those neat corn-on-the cob cuppies that looked pretty real would trick people, but really they'd be mostly delighted. There's not a whole lot of foolin', is there?

So in the spirit of the day, how about instead of pleasantly surprising someone, we try to make them feel stupid? (For next year of course, unless there's a May Fools Day I'm unaware of). That's what it's about, right? It's called April Fools for a reason. A bit of humiliation, but not so much that your pal's usual good nature will be compromised.

I'm bothering to post this at this time not because I really want you to make your loved ones cry; rather the idea behind the cupcake above is a neat one that is useful for kids. And a good prank for adult friends. And by good I mean really mediocre. (Speaking of kids, I came across a post for a 'fake fried egg' - it's pound cake (the toast) with vanilla yogurt and half an apricot (the egg) and a commenter complained "My son did not find this funny at all. It ruined his day. I hope you're all happy!" It's clear where he gets his sense of humour from.)

This is a mini meatloaf made to look like a cupcake, obviously. Give it to your bestie and she'll likely take a bite, make a face like Laura Dern crying, and then when she realises what it actually is and that it's normal food, finish it. Happy ending! When it comes to your child you have a choice whether you tell them what it really is before they eat it. If you enjoy seeing the fruit of your loins gurn, cringe and collapse in sobs, say nothing! And then you can leave me a nasty comment about how I've ruined your day. If you'd rather not risk destroying your child's trust in 10 seconds and make them food phobic, you can present the cupcake as what it is - a cute way to enjoy meatloaf.

The 'frosting' is coloured mashed potatoes (I have to admit that seems a bit gross to me) but who knows, it might go over. Want to try? Find the recipe at Family Fun 

Cupcake Monday! The Pretty Ones + Porcelain Roses and Heartbreak

Let's just bask in the prettiness of these cupcakes which appear to be wrapped in ketchup cups! (Also brilliant for Jell-o shooters I recall from back in the day. I wonder if they stole theirs from McDonald's.) I was going to post more but these mini beauties really do it for me and so I don't really want to look at anything else (I'm loyal that way). Hope you don't mind.

The icing roses remind me of those tiny, delicate porcelain flowers. I have a silver anchor necklace just covered with them, I got it in Paris from Les Bijoux de Sophie. I came close to a public hissy fit when I was at a restaurant in Montmartre and its long pendant got hooked under the edge of the table so when I went to stand up it sheered off some of the roses. Augh! I'm still not over it. It stings. Although, it did teach me a lesson that things don't need to be so precious and I even tried to convince myself that it was more interesting that way. I had a story! Not a good one, but a story nonetheless.

 

I love its pretty take on the cheesy sailor tattoo. I still wear it and tell myself it's more beautiful in its accidental asymmetry.

And if those cupcakes are yours please do let us know as I found them with no credit given, for shame!

Boo! Happy Halloween!

 

Enjoy your sweets but don't do as I did and go nuts on pre-Halloween jumbo Haribos - I'm still dealing with the self-loathing and the feeling that I've got a 1kg wad of gelatin in my stomach. 

Happy Halloween! Are you dressing up? I'm not but figure having to do a full-on Bride of Frankenstein costume with wig, makeup and custom-made dress (thanks Judith!) for Baby Swelle's FOUR parties is adequate commitment to promoting the Halloween spirit!

If anyone has any miracle scar treatments for children please share - that cut on her face ain't makeup.

(Creepy) Model Scouting in Rural Brazil

 

I came across this NY Times short doc from the summer which follows a young male model scout looking for new faces in rural south Brazil. There were lots of things that were interesting about it: getting a glimpse of what life is like in a part of the world I'll likely never see, observing who the scout chooses to single out as having potential, hearing what the girls have to say when they're approached, and wondering if any of the parents told this guy 'Get your damn hands off my daughter!' in Portuguese. At one point the scout is with a 16 year-old girl named Michele at her parents' farm, stroking her hair while looking at her adoringly. Being an optimist I thought 'Wow, her boyfriend really looks like the scout. Hmmm...he's even wearing the same shirt!' I preferred to believe that until I watched again and realised it was indeed the scout. He also strayed from professionalism when he stopped a 13 year-old girl in the street with her hoodie up, framing her small face which displayed a fresh hormonal breakout and metal dental braces, and told her, 'You are so cute' while appearing to stifle nervous giggles. He came off looking like your friend's creepy uncle. She told him she didn't like modelling but seemed to be nervously flattered by the attention, naturally.

Maybe it's a cultural thing where close physical promiximity and affection is more accepted in casual social situations. But I still think this guy's methods are inappropriate, especially in a situation where the young girl has no power over what happens once she agrees to leave her family behind and travel to the big city of São Paulo, where all of the new girls sleep in one room in bunkbeds. Gisele Bünchen was scouted in the same area at age 13, as was Alessandra Ambrosio, at age 11. Geez. Most of these girls are desperate to be like their hometown heroines while others, like Michele, are equally determined to give their parents a better life. She tears up just talking about it. Her mother says with an innocent laugh, 'I dream of flying on an airplane one day and maybe I will.'

Part of the scout's strategy for finding new faces - and he's just one of dozens working in the area - is to hang out at the local schools and inspect the young girls as they walk by, which he has permission from the female principal to do. She says 'The scouts have always been allowed to observe freely.' Where do I even start on that one...

I'm Glad Summer's Nearly Over for I Cannot Bear These...

Is it just me who really, really hates this style of sandal/thong/flipflop where the ankle is cuffed in extraneous suede or leather while the piggies go bare? It must be, because I've seen them EVERYWHERE this summer. Here in England, back in Toronto. On teens, mature women, children! The thing that I can't get my head around is that this style came out of nowhere overnight - I mean this very specific flat sandal/thong style - and so many immediately said 'Yes! Let's do this!' There was no easing into it; out of the blue we all felt our ankles needed to be adorned and padded and that it was ok that the rest of the shoe remained skeletal. Maybe that's what irks me so, the unbalanced-ness of them.

I debated whether to post this, I didn't want to make anyone feel bad because by my calculations, based on anecdotal evidence, about half of you reading this are likely to have a pair in your closet. And I don't like making people feel bad. If you love them and feel good wearing them, good for you. And who knows, in time I may even come around. (I'm just saying that to be nice.)

Wait - are these ones actually lined in faux fur? While the poor little piggies, and the heel, have nothing! See what I mean? Madness!!!

Regretsy: Making Fun For Good

If Rodarte's second mistake was to collaborate with MAC on a makeup collection named after the notorious Mexican city of Juarez, their first was to create a pair of webby yarn tights that inspired these knock-offs.

Regretsy. Heard of it? Probably. But if not, you know those movies or novels where there's a horrific torture scene and you wonder of the writer, 'How could anyone conceive of such a depraved and hideous act? What is wrong with you?' Well, imagine that person took that idea and instead of writing it down, they looked around their house (or dump, compost heap or graveyard) and made it into an equally disturbing object. And tried to sell it on Etsy or some other kind of DIY online marketplace. Regretsy's April Winchell, AKA Helen Killer, finds these WTF? offenders, along with an endless selection of just simply bad ideas, or nasty executions of these ideas (see above) and brings them to us daily, in hilarious blog form. What makes it so funny is Killer's astute and creative responses to the items, as seen above (that's the kind of creativity we want, folks!), including the contributions of her readers - a winning bid for an Etsy Alchemy project to paint Lady Gaga devouring a unicorn while paparrazi snap shots has to be the ultimate.

Now, I love Etsy. The great thing about them is they provide anyone and everyone the means to sell their handmade creations. The bad thing about them is they provide anyone and everyone the means to sell their handmade creations. Sometimes democracy backfires. Stalin is grinning smuggly somewhere. See:

Yes, after I included Stalin in my post I searched his name on Etsy and not to my surprise, I found a short list of Stalin-related things, such as this matryoshka doll set of Russian leaders. (Does anyone know what that first one says? That splotchy head couldn't belong to anyone but Gorbachev - I loved that guy! - but that sure is a funny spelling of his name. And Stalin's. I'm obviously missing something here. And FYI: if you search Google images for pictures of Mikhail Gorbachev you'll find Ashton Kutcher in a camel coat.)

The point of this post was to highlight something that we don't usually get alongside our fun-makers: good-hearted compensation. Regretsy gives back to those who provide the unintentional humour, or horror. Well, maybe not to the person who thought a fascinator made with the real skull of a cat was a desirable item to add to one's accessory drawer (though the seller may feel proud that it's been filed deep in my subconcious, awaiting a guest appearance in one of my upcoming nightmares. Oh geez, I just heard a cat meowing outside. That nightmare is happening tonight).

All profits from Regretsy's merchandise go toward helping charities - over $10,000 so far and counting - and directly to Etsy sellers in need, such as Veronica of Ronnie’s Tender Heart (her Etsy shop is here) who is battling leukemia for the third time at age 22. Her friends have set up a shop to sell bracelets to help fund her medical bills not covered by insurance. She is currently in ICU fighting pneumonia.

Regretsy is running two auctions of bags that include fun and goofy Etsy merchandise as well as Regretsy, the book. Get the full details here.

April Winchell: I have added you to my list of smart and funny chicks that make me blow snot.

Noughties Haute Couture Pt. 2: Oh Balmain, How You've Changed

This is Balmain haute couture, spring 2001. So bland it hurts. It hurts bad.

In 2001, the house of Pierre Balmain was showing haute couture with Oscar de la Renta at the helm. Oscar's Ladies Who Lunch must have been dining on clear broth and water, holding the lemon for it's got too much zing. And why accessorise when the beige is already carrying the outfit into the outer limits of thrillsville? And the hair. The hair! This was 2001, not 1991. Hard to believe, eh? 

Look what they did to Raquel Zimmermann, who was 18 at the time:

And Raquel in a look from Balmain spring RTW 2009:

What a difference the choice of creative director makes. Christophe Decarnin has revived the struggling brand with too cool for school ready to wear but the prices are in serious need of review. It's all a bit silly and even insulting. You can't buy the shoes in the pic above anymore but they came with a price tag of around $2300. But that's a lot of bang for your buck considering it'll cost you $3000 for a glittery cotton t-shirt. It's got glitter!! 

Mini Fashion Icons: Have We Lost Our Minds?

Here's my latest article for Models and Moguls. I chose not to show many photos of the kids as they aren't old enough to consent and I find it creepy that there are so many available to browse in the first place. I don't think fashion is an excuse to ogle other people's children.

Suri Cruise is one of the most photographed celebrities at the moment and is considered a fashion icon. She is three years old. The toddler daughter of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes even boasts a signature style – she loves to wear kitten heels, which have become a point of controversy considering a child who is barely out of diapers should probably not have to worry about getting a podiatrist on Mommy’s speed dial. Holmes defends her decision to allow her daughter to wear the shoes, telling US Weekly, "They are actually ballroom dancing shoes for kids. I found them and she loves them." Alright, then. If it’s for ballroom dancing the heels make perfect sense. How else would she execute a respectable progressive sidestep while performing the tango?

Baby Cruise is reported to have a designer wardrobe worth $3 million, although, while her fancy clobber is surely worth its weight in gold binkies, one might suspect that figure has been slightly exaggerated. And boy, do we hope so. Almost exclusively appearing in adorable dresses in her relentlessly documented outings - why her parents allow this is a bit of a mind bender, though I suspect in father Tom’s eyes it’s the greatest distraction/PR tactic a volatile celebrity desperately clinging to relevance could dream of - Suri style has become a fascination for mothers around the world who want their daughters to create the same kind of frenzied raucous when they walk down the street picking their noses. So don’t be surprised if when your neighbourhood daycare lets out you're presented with a parade of slightly elevated kiddy fashionistas prancing to their Land Rovers. Logical thinking would tell us, however, that if you’re small enough to need a car seat, you’re not old enough to hip-wiggle when you walk.

And there are lists. Because we, the public, loves lists. Who’s the “most”, the “best”, who’s on top, who didn’t make it on. And celeb children under the age of eight are no exception. In fact, they are hot these days. So much so that they are being ranked according to who has the better style, by adults who should have better things to do. And so far, Suri is the undisputed princess of the fashionable tots and that’s how her parents seem to like it. There are also blogs galore dedicated to celeb baby bumps and kids. Come on guys, get a life. It's not cute, it's creepy. And so are you.

Once up, the only place to go is down, and the angel-faced brunette has competition. It seems Jessica Alba, who is notorious for Medusa-facing the paparazzi’s cameras when she is snapped getting a coffee or walking to her car, has just recently curbed the venom-spewing in favour of playing with her daughter in full view of the lenses. Two year-old Honor (look out Suri, she’s got the youth advantage) is getting double-page spreads in glossy weeklies detailing where the pieces in her outfit are from. But are we fascinated? Someone wants us to be.

Then we have Shiloh Pitt-Jolie. Many say the three year-old is the most generously DNA-endowed celebrity child we’ve seen yet. But mom takes the tomboy approach and kits out her girls mostly in loose pants in dark colours, usually black. Aside from matching white leather Valentino handbags – one for mom, one for older adopted daughter Zahara, as papped two years ago – Jolie hasn’t given the public what it wants as far as her children are concerned – gorgeous faces matched by equally gorgeous clothes and plenty of photo ops. And therefore Shiloh barely makes the Most Stylish Child lists but has to be there because, well, she’s Shiloh Pitt-Jolie.

Let’s not forget the boys. The Beckham clan – Cruz, Brooklyn and Romeo – are dressed by their mother Victoria Beckham, now a successful fashion designer, who wears tight pencil skirts and five inch stilettos for a transatlantic flight and loves for you to know it. Naturally she is concerned with showing the same commitment in how her boys are presented – have you seen some of the getups she’s convinced husband David to wear?  Imagine if Posh had even one girl? One could easily predict the fierce rivalry that would emerge with her friends, the Cruises. Tom and Victoria battling it out like two divas for who’s precious angel gets the most column inches. Now that I’d love to see, but it’s children we’re talking about here – and I don’t mean the parents.

And then we have Kingston Rossdale, another lucky kid in the gorgeous parents club. Gwen Stefani is one of the most stylish celebrities, period. And little Kingston with his big brown eyes and mischievous smile looks just like his dad, Bush front man Gavin (though what he’s up to these days beyond cheering on Roger Federer at Grand Slam events is a mystery to me). His wardrobe, like the Beckham boys’, is impeccable yet still suggests he’s not afraid to get into things as only a boy would. It seems Gwen calmed down with the over-the-top designer flaunting she was known for when Kingston was an infant –she was regularly seen toting him around in a Gucci logo-print Baby Bjorn-like carrier. I’d feel better knowing Daddy took issue with that; there was just something not quite right about a baby who poops his pants while clad in Italian designer accessories.

So what’s this all about? Surely parents with the means and the profile are going to want their enchanted offspring to represent in a way that’s befitting of their pedigree. And any stylish parent, including us civilians, knows that it’s fun to dress your kid up all smart and indulge in the fabulous fashion available for tots these days, both bank-breaking and cheap. But the regular parading of them in front of the paparazzi’s cameras – the paps go where they are wanted, more so than most realize – and the arranging of covers and features in the weekly glossies, reflects more on the attention mongering and ego-feeding tendencies of these parents  than their taste in ruffle dresses and mini handbags. If that assertion seems harsh, take Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis. The very few photos of their son Jack and daughter Lily Rose – who are, as you can imagine, sublimely gorgeous with the cheekbones of their parents, the most finely chiselled couple around – are privacy-invading ambush snaps. Depp and Paradis are extremely careful in guarding access to their children and have never offered up a photo op.

Imagine, gorgeous celeb kids who are allowed to be kids, with parents who not only resist the urge to flaunt them but are fiercely opposed to the idea. Novel concept, eh?

Deciphering Fashion’s Infatuation with Lindsay Lohan

 

Lindsay Lohan looking as 'radiant' and fresh as the McDonald's hamburger pickle that fell into our kitchen vent and my brother ate when he found it six months later. When he was little. Not last year.

I wrote this article for Models and Moguls last week and decided to share it here as well. I want to be clear that this isn’t a mean-spirited attack of a young woman who, denial aside, is a mess. Rather, I see a girl who is dying – emotionally, from a string of failed relationships and a lack of meaningful family support (I'm being exceptionally easy with that description); and physically from drug and alcohol abuse which one can only assume is an ongoing problem simply by looking at her otherwise inexplicably ravaged face. It’s the overlooking of these questions by those who hire her for image enhancing purposes that I take issue with. I just don't get it, but here I tried to figure it out.

Also, since I wrote this, Ungaro CEO Mounir Moufarrige has resigned while Lohan is to stay on for another season, at least. My head just exploded.

This week we’ve been treated to, or visually assaulted by – depending on which way you lean – a photo spread in Italian magazine Muse, featuring a raunchy Lindsay Lohan. According to photographer Yu Tsai the struggling actress – her latest film Labor Pains went straight to cable – was channelling Kate Moss in a threesome scenario with a Johnny Depp look-a-like – Moss and Depp had a turbulent, four-year relationship in the late 1990s – and another woman. Tsu said of Lohan’s performance for the camera: “She is stunning and radiates in the pictures. Lindsay is incredibly focused where it comes to her career and fashion is her passion. It’s raw, it’s exposed, this is her at her best.”

Fashion may very well be Lohan’s passion, but stunning and radiant? Really? Are we looking at the same pictures? Because what I see – and according to a blitz of blog articles and commenters I’m not the only one – is an under-fed, hard-faced, inflated-lipped girl who looks at least a decade older than her 23 years. Further, what we’ve observed of Lohan’s behavior beyond this photospread – arrests for DUIs and cocaine possession; three stints in rehab; being photographed sans underwear; receiving a public spanking via open letter by her Georgia Rule director in 2007 for “discourteous, irresponsible and unprofessional” behavior on set; public rows with her on-off girlfriend; rambling Twitter messages about her on-off girlfriend; theft; and showing up 12 hours late for an Elle UK cover shoot this year – resembles nothing that could even loosely indicate a “focused” career woman. It makes one wonder if Tsai had any knowledge at all of Lohan before they met for the shoot. (Then again, fashion is about being in the moment and one can't take responsibility for an opinion they expressed five minutes ago, can they?)

The editorial spread and subsequent risqué video of the shoot follows the astonishing appointment of Lohan as “artistic advisor” of French fashion house Ungaro, a heritage brand that has been struggling since the house’s founder Emanuel Ungaro retired in 2004. Lohan was the shocking choice to oversee the work of creative director Estrella Archs, the replacement for Esteban Cortazar who left the brand in protest of the tabloid fixture’s hiring. At the time, Lohan’s fashion experience was limited to a line of leggings that included a style called the Mr. President – complete with quilted leather knee pads – and spray tan.

The idea to hire the controversial actress and sometime pop singer came from Ungaro CEO Mounir Moufarrige who was keen to revive the label with a celebrity face. Despite the fashion editors’ punishing reviews of Lohan and Archs’ debut collection for spring 2010 – WWD called it an “embarrassment” – Moufarrige stood by his choice to keep Lohan on his team, saying “There are some girls out there that whenever they move, whatever they wear, they attract attention, even if they make mistakes. It’s all publicity.” Now she knows what to put on her CV.

Aside from a guest-star spot on Ugly Betty last year and a role in Robert Rodriquez’s upcoming film Machete – far from a full schedule for a once promising actress – it would appear that her future lies in fashion. And it seems most likely to flourish in Europe and the UK, as the general perspective of her image abroad is far more favourable than it is at home where she’s become somewhat of a joke, thanks to her inability to stay out of trouble and her attention-whoring parents. Before her appointment at Ungaro, the youthful Italian luxury brand and little sister to Prada, Miu Miu, hired her to front their spring/summer 2007 ad campaign, and this year she’s the face of another Italian clothing brand, Fornarina. She donned black leather thigh-high boots for the sexy cover and editorial spread for Elle UK’s September fashion issue, shot by British photographer Rankin. And to be fair, she doesn’t do a bad job moving like a model. Rankin even compared her to Gisele and Angela Lindvall, saying “she works it.”

As Americans seem to have a thing for Europeans, so do Europeans sometimes find fascination with Americans, especially young actresses, and they are far less critical of personal troubles and love a bit of edge – Kate Moss, anyone? So maybe Lohan is a natural fit with their “let’s go with it” attitude (though their more astute fashion observers have made it explicitly clear they’re not buying what she’s selling). But can we, who know all of the dirt, separate fact from fiction and find inspiration in the hard-faced fantasy presented to us?

Lohan told Tsai on the Muse shoot “I want it to be iconic.” And maybe that’s what her fashion bosses are hoping for when they take her on. I’m hoping one day she’ll instead give us “ironic” and deliver the opposite of what we’ve come to expect – that focused, radiant young woman we’ve been promised. Because until then, I don’t think I can take anymore.

Vintage Beaded Dresses and Parking Violations

I visited The Cat's Meow when I was home visiting Toronto in the summer, it's my favourite brick and mortar vintage shop. And here's why. It was one of the few things I got to do between getting strep throat twice while home. I popped in to see what was new and gorgeous (everything) and found myself obsessing over several dresses and two hats. And a beaded bag. And some 1930s silk camisoles with crochet necklines of which I bought two. Never mind the jewelry which I didn't even have time to ogle. Why? Because I mentioned to the lovely Louise, the gracious owner of the boutique, that my parking pass had probably run out and she informed me that they tow everyone at the stroke of 3. And it was well after 3 pm. I looked out and saw that Avenue road had been cleared of all parked vehicles, including mine. And that sucked so hard. Especially as my mother-in-law's house was just a five minute walk up the street. But it was so hot outside it was gross. Like if you exert yourself for 10 seconds your armpits turn into sprinklers and you're sporting a sweat moustache. You can see why I drove. But Dunce of the Year me forgot to check the signs, probably because I thought I would only be there for about 20 minutes, not the hour + I actually was (as if, I'm never quick with anything. Case in point - this took me four months to post).

Anyway, there were loads of enchanting dresses with beading or sequins or adornment of some kind and I had to take pictures. For a preview of what's new now (rather than four months ago) you can follow The Cat's Meow blog for some serious vintage lusting. And if you're in Toronto and haven't been - a visit is a must!

Killer Face, Killer Body...Deadly Job?

Daul Kim

I wrote this piece for Models and Moguls where I am a weekly contributor, and have decided to share it here. The cause of Daul Kim’s death has not been confirmed at the time of publication; however, for the purpose of exploring issues within the modelling industry (as much as I can in 750 words) and due to lack of evidence to the contrary, I am basing this article on the assumption of suicide.

Last week the fashion world was stunned by the news that top model Daul Kim was found dead in her Paris apartment in an apparent suicide. The 20 year-old South Korean beauty and Karl Lagerfeld muse had written on several occasions on her blog 'I Like to Fork Myself' - which is now restricted to invited readers only - how she was feeling lonely and depressed, then came back to assure her fans she was fine. In fact she was far from fine. Kim hung herself on November 20.

The pressures of the high fashion modelling industry are no secret; girls in their teens and early 20s fly alone from location to location, working long hours catering to the, at times impossible, demands of their agencies and photographers while their family and friends are left behind, and struggling to make sense of and adapt to foreign cultures. On October 30 Kim wrote “Mad depressed and overworked, the more I gain the more lonely it is. I know I’m like a ghost.”

Kim is the second model on the rise to end her own life in 18 months. In June 2008, Ruslana Korshunova, also just 20 years old, jumped to her death from her 9th floor Manhattan apartment. While her friends have said there were no signs she would do such a thing - one claiming “she was always happy” - like Kim she also expressed despair online. In March she had written on a Russian networking site “I’m so lost, will I ever find myself?” While not yet a household name, the Russian model known for her feline looks and Rapunzel hair had been named as a 'face to watch' by British Vogue, with several covers and high profile campaigns under her belt including a perfume commercial for Paris fashion house Nina Ricci.

Ruslana Korshunova

And in March of this year a model turned actress whose film career was taking off took her own life in circumstances eerily similar to those surrounding Kim’s death. Lucy Gordon, a 28 year-old Briton was found hanged in her Paris apartment located in the city’s trendy Right Bank in the 10th arrondissement, the same neighbourhood where Kim had lived. Gordon had played reporter Jennifer Dugan in Spiderman 3 after making the transition from modelling to acting; she had been the face of U.S. make-up giant Cover Girl. However, it appears a row with her cinematographer boyfriend the night before prompted her desperate act. She left two suicide notes, one detailing her last wishes regarding her estate and a letter addressed to her parents.

Lucy Gordon

While many models go on to flourish within the industry and forge successful post-modelling careers – Cindy Crawford and Elle Macpherson, for example – there are many others who succumb to the pressures, most of whom we don’t hear about unless they’re considered a rising star, the ones who will be missed. Young teen girls who have the opportunity to work as a model typically leave school, their families, and their cultures, to pursue their dream career which has a relatively short shelf-life compared to more traditional paths; do it now or the chance may pass you by. Yet, a 16 year-old is hardly equipped to deal with the unaccommodating and unforgiving adult world she’s been thrust into with only her perfect bone structure and long legs on which to rely. Pitfalls can include eating disorders, drugs and alcohol abuse and falling prey to unscrupulous older men – it’s not uncommon for models to be used as prostitutes.

Former model Louise Gagnon worked in Paris in the 80s and went on to become an editor of a French fashion magazine, after barely escaping the industry with her life. "I was raped regularly. Sometimes multiple times per week. I was depressed all the time and the only thing that made me feel better was the heroin. It didn't stop when I stopped modelling either," Gagnon recalls. "I was in some bad relationships with the photographers who I had met years earlier and I was involved with them professionally so I had to ignore my feelings. It was complicated and I became more and more disgusted at myself everyday. I finally decided I needed to quit before I killed myself."

In a video Kim made during New York fashion week for New York magazine's series Model Diaries, she recounts how she was once asked by another model what she was reading. She replied “Tolstoy” which prompted the witless model to correct her pronunciation of ‘Toy Story’. One could blame Kim's Korean accent for the misunderstanding but once cleared up it became apparent that the girl didn’t know who Tolstoy was, and this astounded and frustrated Kim, an accomplished painter who once had a solo show of her art in Seoul. A model seeking intellectual stimulation in the fashion industry is like a goldfish trying to survive in a bowl of porridge.

One can only speculate as to the reasons for the loss of these young lives. But it would appear that in these tragic cases the modelling industry took far more than it gave.

Prolonged, unrelenting stress can lead to depression. If you think you may be suffering from depression, you need to get help. Here are some online resources to consult, in addition to talking to your doctor:

http://helpguide.org/mental/depression_tips.htm

http://www.bbc.co.uk/health/conditions/mental_health/disorders_depression.shtml

http://www.depressionalliance.org/

It's a Puke-cation!

These days there are all kinds of variations on the word vacation to reflect the times, such as "stay-cation" when you can't go anywhere on your time off. Also akin to "suffo-cation." Luckily, I was able to take the traditional vacation where you buy an exorbitantly priced plane ticket and fly somewhere. This time it was to visit family and friends at home in Canada which began just lovely until somewhere along the way I must have licked a disease-ridden door handle or something and caught strep throat.

I had no idea just how bad strep throat can be. You don't want it. (An FYI just in case it's on your list of infections to catch.) Thanks to Gravol, tonight I've been able to eat a whole piece of dry toast which magically turned into a razor blade as it went down my throat. And there are details of the most disgusting and humiliating kind but I'll spare you as although I do straddle the line of good taste at times (see the title of this post) I fear crossing over would lead to the Point of No Return. And I still have a lot to say about dresses.

So, that's why I haven't been blogging despite having so many great things to share. And thank you for checking in if you have been. I hope to be able to think tomorrow and post a 'real' one. I sure didn't have to think for this one.

Truly Tasteless Post: 'David' Shorts

 

I hope the title of this post braced you somewhat for what was to follow. Sincere apologies if not, or if this offends your tender sensibilities and puts you off cocktail wienies for the rest of your life.

So I'm in Canada now at my family's and yesterday I was watching a show on the CBC where the host attempts to ascertain, for his own cultural enrichment, what is 'art.' So he travels to Florence, the home of Michelangelo's masterpiece 'David,' and included in the shots taken of the Palazzo della Signoria where a copy of the statue stands (the original is housed in the nearby Galleria dell'Accademia) we see racks of shorts with David's nether regions printed on the front and back. I couldn't believe it. I've not been, yet, but I'm glad I had a heads-up so my heart wouldn't fall out the bottoms of my feet when I do one day visit the city.

I had to look this up and found The David Shorts Store when I googled 'David shorts.' And there they were. I like how the website boasts 'we use only the highest quality materials.' Because surely the guy buying these shorts has discerning tastes. But is 100% polyester a top quality fabric? Especially for 'down there'? Better yet are the key selling points, which include:

• Impress women at parties
• Parade around town without having to be bashful

The latter of which is followed by a trip downtown to have your name added to the sex offender's registry.

And they offer alternatives if David isn't 'man' enough for you, like the Italian XXL David Shorts. The XXL does refer to the size, but not of the shorts if you know what I mean.

There was NO WAY I was showing those.

Will the Design Piracy Prohibition Act Kill Fashion?

What a thing to wake up to. Apparently the Design Piracy Prohibition Act is getting closer to being passed by United States Congress. The Act would extend protection to "the appearance as a whole of an article of apparel, including its ornamentation." It was introduced in 2006, kind of disappeared and now it's back and it looks as if it will become law. In effect, this will result in dire consequences for all independent fashion designers.

Miss Jess, an American independent designer tells Boing Boing that "Under this legislation designers will need to consult with a lawyer throughout the design process to ensure that every new design created could not subjectively be found at a later date to be 'closely and substantially similar' to one protected in the Copyright registry. Further, young, up-and-coming designers would be susceptible to legal intimidation from designing anything new at all, as they would likely not have the resources to fight a legal challenge in court."

And so it would become a part of the cost of doing business - in essence a killer of anyone trying to make it on their own.

Kathleen Fasanella of Fashion Incubator offers this plausible scenario:

Your name is getting out there, picking up more orders everyday and your accounts love you. Now that your fabric samples have arrived, you’re inspired and happily sketching your new styles. This is sure to be your best collection ever! So then you reach for the phone to schedule a slot to have your patterns and samples made. But on the other end, the pattern maker or sewing contractor refuses to work with you. Your heart sinks through the floor, why? You’ve got an established relationship, you’re a great customer with regular work and steady pay but still, no one will take your contracts. In fact, they’re shutting down themselves.

You can read the rest of Fasanella's article if you still need convincing that this is a bad thing.

I don't know exactly who is behind this, but common sense and a healthy dose of cynicism tells me that some of the most powerful American designers have clandestinely banded together and used their influence (ie. loud talking wallets) to convince Congress to pass a bill that in effect benefits them and prevents independent designers from being able to create freely. I can't imagine every big American designer is backing this but I don't hear any of them opposing it, either. Do you? I may have missed something. I hope I did.

What twists the knife deeper is how it's these very people who are ripping off the independents in the first place - if anyone needs protection from having their work stolen outright it's the little guys. Diane von Furstenberg, anyone? And shockingly she happens to be one of the most vocal supporters of the bill. Sorry, Diane, you were a favourite of mine but you have no place on this blog anymore

Update #1:I  was fired up when I wrote this and am now reconsidering. Not because she compensated the designer and admitted fault - this didn't matter to me at the time I wrote this; it is what should be done when you steal another's design. But I'll reserve judgement regarding the inclusion of certain designers on this blog pending how the outcome - should the bill pass - actually plays out.

You can petition U.S. congress here to stop H.R. 2196 from passing into law, created by Fashion-Incubator.com and written by Kathleen Fasanella.

As an end note, what passes as law in the U.S. tends to have global repercussions, so it's up to us supporters of independent fashion to watch what's happening in our respective countries and act accordingly should we notice the introduction of talk around similar, one-sided legislation threatening our vulnerable design talent. See the interview with Xuan-Thu Nguyen below - would we want to lose someone like her?

Update #1 continued (I know, this is getting confusing): A reader by the name of Ms. Shoo - an independent fashion designer - submitted a comment that presents the other side of the argument, which I'm glad for as I'm not a fashion designer and this surely isn't a one-sided issue. Please see her thoughtfully expressed argument and links below.

When composing this post earlier today I couldn't see anything in the writing of the act that appears to blatantly discriminate against independent fashion designers. However, I was heavily influenced by the interpretation of some who strongly feel that it does present serious  implications for independent designers, as referenced above. They are angry, frustrated and frightened and surely they're not simply winding themselves up for kicks. But maybe their concerns are a hypothetical scenario rather than an absolute doomsday?

So now the question seems to be, is it possible that the original work of a designer can be protected by a law such as this without compromising the creative freedom of others?

Update #2: Kathleen Fasanella of Fashion Incubator responded to the comment that subdued me after my rant, and I feel a bit like a ping pong ball batted back and forth with great ferocity. I'm again thinking this is very, very bad, her arguments are too compelling to ignore. And I'd rather it not be true but I am soured on DvF. (Nevermind that she lost all credibility when she signed up for The City! Yeah, okay, I'll watch it I admit, but I can't believe she needs to do a show for cheap publicity or pick on the independents. Like The Fonz when he could no longer start a jukebox with a swift side-punch to the glass, she's lost her 'cool.')

There's Still Hope for Christian Lacroix

As you may have heard, Christian Lacroix filed for protection from his creditors last week. When I read that I closed the page and floated to the ceiling where my 'happy place' is. What would haute couture week be without 'le pouf', his sumptuous fabrics and dramatic shows? Who will give me my details overload fix of velvet ribbons, exquisite embroidery, stripes and prints and regal gold in combinations that scramble the brain and blur the eyes at first glance?

We needn't despair just yet, WWD is keeping things calm with a report that claims Lacroix "had told his collaborators that he will give '200 percent' to keep the 22 year-old couture house intact" and that he wrote in a letter to the firm's 125 employees that the goal is to "preserve the know-how, without which the lungs and the heart of the house couldn't exist."

Hmm...that quote tugs at the heart strings but it also made me think of haggis. Anything is better than contemplating the outcome of this depressing event.

Pardon Monsieur, But My Dinner Smells of Merde

Sometimes sharing the story of one's misfortune helps erase the bad memories or turn them into something you can laugh at, and that is the purpose of this post. But it's not completely self-serving; it's also a cautionary tale. If you have a weak stomach or are about to eat, or just ate, you may want to skip this. (If you're still with me after reading the title then I think morbid curiosity has already got the better of you. And it's not really that bad. Some of you may even love the stuff depending where you're from.)

I've decided to tell the story on a separate page as it's long and I'm not really sure I want it on my front page! So if you want to read on you can do so here

Model's Eyeballs Say 'Enough'!

                                                                                    AP Photo

The big story from Milan fashion week isn't about models falling all over the runway (Miuccia saw to it that the shoes were walkable this time around), but rather a young Lithuanian named Auguste Abeliunaite who had tears streaming down her face during both of her walks for Jil Sander.

Some in attendance thought it was a make-up effect until they realised the rest of the girls had dry eyes. And so the speculation began. A break-up via text just before the show? Fear of falling wearing the high, tight heels as an alleged helper backstage summised? Faked tears? Hunger? 

Well, Heard on the Runway posted the story and received the following comment:

There wasnt any small shoes or my emocional problems!!!! The lights was very strong and cameras was flashing all the time. My eyes are very sensitive thats why i was crying.

Comment by Auguste :) - March 2, 2009 at 5:52 pm

The comment seems legit and explains why she's not all puffy and red as you'd get with emotional crying (reps claimed not to know anything about it). Many commenters have been downright awful even when the assumption was that she'd likely received bad news just before the show. Either way, have a heart!

And how beautiful was she?

Had that been me, those two delicate streams would have been accompanied by two thick ones flowing from my nose.

Photo source: The Frisky

I'll Admire You From Afar

I need to lament something, now that I can talk about it. I was invited to the Tadashi Shoji show at New York fashion week for the 20th, and I can't go. I'm distraught. So much so that I hit the bottle last night to deal with it. HARD. That's right, it's tough to admit, but I drank HALF a 750 ml of Jacques Fruits des Bois CIDER WITH FRUIT. Lightly Sparkling. And as I found, only lightly intoxicating. I know the recommended daily limit in the UK for women is 3 units, and what I had equalled only two. However, the bottle did say 'serve over ice' but I went hardcore and drank it straight up. Sure it's only a burp or two away from pop, but it's good for what ails you. Especially when that thing is a sweets craving.

Anyway, above are looks from Tadoshi Shoji's Spring 09 show in New York. Beautiful. Sniff.

If Only the Journalist Had Brought Along a Spare Pair

I couldn't not post this.

Not even a shoe hurled at his head at close range can knock that dumb perma-smirk off Bush's monkey face (no offence, monkeys). Well, he certainly couldn't have been drunk with that reaction time. But something that makes one more alert might explain things...(hee).

Surely you've heard about the incident Sunday where Iraqi journalist Muntadhar al-Zeidi did us all proud and whipped both of his shoes at Bush during a press conference in Iraq. Throwing one's shoe at a person is a sign of disrespect and wanting to hit someone in the face with your shoe.

It's the gift that keeps on giving. Or rather the gif. (I'm sorry, it wrote itself.) The guys that create these things have been busy, and these are my favourites of the lot. Try to not laugh. Look for them in your inbox and everyone's Facebook superwall. (If that's what it is now, I can't keep up with all their applications and I don't try to. This is my sharing place.)

Oh, and did you hear what Bush said about it afterward? I saw the clip and nearly fell off my chair. He said "I DON'T KNOW WHAT HIS BEEF WAS." Yeah, he probably just got up on the wrong side of the bed that morning...wanted to wear his favourite jeans but found them in the wash...his lottery numbers came up but he forgot to buy a ticket? UGH. Turd Sandwich or Giant Douche?

You can see the rest at Boing Boing

Christopher Bailey's Motto: If it Ain't Broke Don't Fix It

 

Burberry Prorsum's Pre-Fall 09 collection looks a lot like spring 09, which looked a lot like fall 09, and so on. The formula: lots of gloomy shades, trenches and coats, flirty-skirted dresses, dark hats, and big statement necklaces worn over everything.

But it works. Christopher Bailey is keen to maintain the Burberry trench as the mainstay of the brand and every season he finds ways to reinvent it. How he's not mad from doing that for seven years is a mystery to me. When I was about 12 years old, I did a project on dinosaurs and I became so immersed in them for several days that I had those dreams that are like nightmares because they just loop and loop, and then I threw up. He must really love those coats.

Allow me to take this opportunity to air a beef I have with Burberry. I bought my daughter a Burberry winter coat in Turin, Italy last September. (Family takes care of the rest of her wardrobe when we visit so I take the opportunity to splash out on a special coat every year.) It was a white quilted style and the stitching started coming away in several spots immediately. Then a pocket got half ripped off from what was a relatively mild tugging. So, not being able to return to the shop where I bought it, I emailed Burberry and explained, provided the style number etc. and the other details that showed it was genuine, and didn't ask for anything except for a response. And nothing. I guess they have better things to do then worry about a children's coat. And who cares about that kind of small potatoes customer anyway, right? It's not like I'd bought a £6,000 trench that I planned to wear to a film premiere. So no big loss, then? The worst part was, a teacher at my daughter's school responded when I showed up and discovered the front pocket hanging off "You should buy her coats from Tesco. They're only £15 and they last for years." Oh, the sting. I couldn't even argue, I just shrugged and laughed.

I'm sour about it but Christopher Bailey's not to blame for Burberry's hideous customer service, so here are my favourites from the collection. Like Zhu Lin for Rachel Roy, British model Eden Clark presents the clothes in a way that stands out from many of the other off-runway shows. And those are some killer shoe boots.

 

This 'Gingerism' Thing Is Not Funny and it Needs to Go

We're all well aware of the ugliness of racism, ageism, sexism and homophobia, but did you know that so-called 'gingers' - people with red, orange, or strawberry blond hair, are victims of 'gingerism' and being targeted by bullies for something so benign as their hair colour?

Likely all of us have heard the jokes at one time or another, it's the one 'ism' that seems to be widely accepted as okay to indulge in, as if those with flame-tinted hair are somehow intrinsically different and therefore deficient and deserving of ridicule. But lately things have taken a more grievous turn: Facebook groups initiated and joined by thousands of mouth-breathers and booger-eaters (it's a good guess) organised 'Kick a Ginger Day', which attracted police attention and as Canada's The Globe and Mail reported, resulted in one child being kicked 18 times at school before being allowed to go home, and terrified some red-haired children who had stumbled upon the groups on the social networking site so much they were afraid to go to school. No doubt, especially if they were already being bullied.

Even New York magazine is guilty of perpetuating the stereotype that redheads are in some way 'bad' or even evil. Shockingly, they ran a cover story for their February 10th issue entitled Why Children Lie and used three red-haired children (out of four), photographed looking shameful, as the face of the naughty, deceitful child:

And in the UK it's okay for major television networks to promote the hatred of gingers. Not surprising as the historically self-loathing Britain is home to what must be the densest population of redheads in the world. Here 'PC' still mostly means personal computer. (No offense is meant toward my British friends who are decent, evolved human beings, as this is a generalised cultural truth, as compared to more progressive countries, who in fairness may not be as reformed as we'd thought). I caught a show on SKY called Biggest Celebrity Mingers (minger is Brit slang for an ugly person) and the number one spot went to Prince Harry. The no-name commentator's face contorted into a hideous, gargoylesque mask rendering him worthy of the show's title (if he weren't some anonymous wastrel) when he gave the reason, spitting:  'WELL, HE'S GINGER!!'

Just recently Prince Harry was quoted as saying "I'm not ginger. I'm auburn, that's what I've been told." Don't be such a wuss, Harry, OWN IT! Stand up for yourself and your fellow gingers, or auburns or whatever, and be proud! Honestly. If a prince who has fought on the front lines can't handle it, imagine how an eight year-old kid in Flin Flon, Manitoba feels. Geez.

And for the record, Prince Harry seems to be widely viewed as the more attractive prince stateside (sorry Wills) and is considered to be one of the hottest men in the world by some very popular gossip bloggers (both male and female).

Renowned fashion photographer Tim Walker (my favourite) regularly demonstrates a clear preference for redheads in his choice of models. Hopefully little girls who think they might be at a disadvantage will see themselves in these breathtakingly beautiful shots:

Lily Cole


Sophie Drake

Karen Elson (first photo) is also a favourite of Tim Walker's, as well as other photogs and can boast a rare, enduring modelling career thanks to her unique looks. And his Irish colouring has only added to the endearing charm of one of the funniest men we have today, Conan O'Brien:

Note to the bullies, young and old alike: It's just a hair colour. GET OVER IT.

Um, More Gift Ideas for Men?

Earlier I posted some ideas for men's gifts, as they are typically a nightmare to shop for and the holidays are barrelling toward us (I just realised it's mid-November already, and I'm not sure how that happened).

So, uh, how about this Scottish bar stool for guys who wear kilts? Or like to sit around naked?

I said I'd provide suggestions. I didn't say they'd be good ones.

Via Like Cool

We've Come a Long Way, Baby...But We're Still Owed

The new World Economic Forum's Gender Gap Index was just released and the findings are quite shocking. Norway, Finland and Sweden round out the top 3, respectively, for the least discrepancy in equality between women and men. However, even these 'progressive' countries are still nowhere near full equality as measured by WEF's set of key indicators. Unfortunately, women still remain systematically disadvantaged in areas like economic earnings, access to education, political representation, and health care. With the top countries still only providing women with 82% of what they grant to men, there is still much work to be done.

As a Canadian woman living in the UK, it seems I'm better off here. The UK ranked 13th out of the 130 indexed countries while Canada tanked at 31. The United States didn't do much better (likely ousting Canada in political representation, because it's certainly not health care or access to education), coming in at 27. The shame!

Hmm...modelling seems to be the only industry that is exceptionally more lucrative for women than it is men. And people think models are dumb.

Lydia Hearst Poses for the 'Classy' French Playboy

Speaking of gifts for men (see previous post), model, heiress to the Hearst newspaper fortune and daughter of kidnap victim-turned-collaborator Patricia Hearst Shaw, Lydia Hearst is the latest to bare all in the French version of Playboy. Last month it was Lily Cole, whose shoot was inspired by a pervy Serge Gainsbourg album cover that crossed all sorts of boundaries. At least I can show this one.

I looked into her modelling credentials, knowing she was trying to make it as a model but having not really seen her anywhere, and found that she's actually included in Style.com's model directory. But while she's done some high profile shows (Fendi, Anna Sui, Betsey Johnson, though nothing since 2007), most of her photos were as party guest. Tough life.

However, I think the reason I posted about this in the first place, is to share what I read in the NY Daily News article about Lydia's cover, and that is the fact that before posing for French Playboy, she did a racy spread for another French 'gents' magazine called Self Service. Eeeeeuuuwwww......

The 24 year-old Hearst explains her decision to the Daily News: "I'm not a teenager anymore and this is the transition of going into adulthood." And there I thought the rite of passage was being approved for my first credit card.

Here's an unlikely couple - Lydia with SNL's Rachel Dratch (love her) at an Imitation of Christ Party:

 

And Lydia in 2004, who makes a good Charles Anastase model for his spring 2005 RTW show:

Happy Halloween! A Trick and a Treat For You

I prefer treats over tricks, so here's a cat rocking some serious costume clobber at a Halloween pet fashion show in Japan last year, with attitude to match.

But tricks can be fun, too. There's a show here in the UK called Trick or Treat where people (who must be nuts) sign up and at some random point down the road they are chosen to begin their 'trick' or their 'treat.' The show is all about Derren Brown who is "a psychological illusionist with an audacious confidence and rare intuition that enable him to predict, suggest and control human behaviour." He is awesome.

There is one episode I may never forget - he had a young woman believing she had died. It'll give you chills. Here it is:

The Difference Between London and Newcastle

 

The difference between London and Newcastle can be summed up like this: You would never see a Geordie bloke wearing a full-length, faux fur coat. In fact, you rarely see a Geordie bloke wearing a coat at all. A London lad, however, just might have a big fuzzy stashed in his wardrobe, ready to fetch on a whim and model along with a fedora, old-school video camera and maybe even a petrified piranha watching from atop a shelf in front of a lighted map-of-the-world mural. The point is, you never know what you might encounter in the city with the whitest mayor the world has ever seen.

Pimm's and Sympathy

As you may have guessed, I just returned from London, a whirlwind trip that lasted only 29 hours and was all about the girls enjoying what one of the world's greatest cities has to offer. I met up with the lovely Bridget of Trends Inc who was in town for the week, on her way to Rome (lucky her), and we tried in vain to find our favourite Danish fashion shop, Noa Noa, at Sloane Square. (It's gone, and it was just a section at Peter Jones anyway, little did we know. My bad). So we consoled ourselves with some tasty tapas at Las Iguanas. And oh yes, there were a few Pimm's cocktails involved in our easement as well. Bridget unfortunately had to take off just as my old childhood friend Julie, who moved to London from Canada this summer, came to meet us. It was time to do it all over. Another tapas platter and Pimm's, please. I regret nothing.

Comtemplating The Later Years

Next was Tate Modern for the Rothko Exhibition. Rothko's pictures are a very personal thing for me, as they are for anyone who fully appreciates and understands his work, but this particular show was especially intimate - the revealing 'pictures' were from the last years of Rothko's life, before he killed himself. The massive canvasses and mounted papers spread over several rooms created a palpable feeling of despair or malicious fury, depending what room you were in (the latter was felt in the room with the Seagream's murals, there are a two particular murals I cannot look at for this reason). His Black on Grey series was his final series, and a telling one. Despite the black, heavy cloud looming, there's a certain comfort, a calm, that resonates from those soft-edged rectangles. For me, I think it's the purity of his expression, those pictures reveal how utterly consumed he was with what must have been unbearable despair and sometimes, it seems, explosive anger. I find great comfort in that sharing of our humanness, pure and raw. What is more exhilarating than that? ...Oh, and I loved how they made us exit through a particular door which dumped us out into the makeshift Rothko giftshop. You know how I feel about that!

Thug Wife

On the walk back from Tate Modern we passed some beautifully lit trees along the Thames, and a graffitied skateboard area where there was a group of very young and very loud teen girls, I'm guessing from Croydon as the accent is quite distinct, taking pictures of themselves. Speaking of graffiti and Croydon, I thought of Goldie Locks and tried to do an attitude shot, and wound up looking like a one-legged Silent Bob:

Tea and  Liberty

Back at Julie's flat in Putney, a light and spacious place with a nice, homey feel that is due to her sweet personal touches, we crossed paths with her advertising copywriter neighbour, the one with the fantastic coat collection (first, above). I think he was a bit shy about being identified so we'll just call him 'Vance'. Or Niles Crane. We (or rather, I) pretty much badgered him into showing us a jacket he bought from Liberty, and that's how the fashion show began. He acted shy but he wanted to share. It's not possible to keep a treasure from Liberty to yourself and he certainly succumbed. Hell, he mentioned it in the first place. Speaking of Liberty, we found our way there yesterday after Julie's excellent orientation skills lead us to Noa Noa, hidden to the unacquainted, at St. Christopher's Place, where I picked up two mesh underskirts in slate blue and pale pink, brilliant for wearing under dresses that might do with a little enhancement or a big of extra length. 

As for Liberty, time was limited as I had to get on the road back to Newcastle soon, but we had time for a quick browse of a tiny fraction of the jawdropping goods on display in the massive Tudor Revival building, before stopping in the tea shop for a proper girls afternoon tea - with scones, of course. The champagne high tea would have been a fantastic treat, but that's for another day when time is of no consequence. And neither is money. I look forward to that day. When it's coming?

The Sick Train (Read this only if you find toilet humour funny, and aren't eating)

Once arriving back in Newcastle, I got on the metro to go home. A Saturday night on the train is always interesting, and this was no different. Having only eaten a banana since our tea, I grabbed a cheeseburger and fries from a burger chain I dare not mention, and one that I had to be desperate to patronise (nothing else was open and I wasn't lugging my bags anywhere at that point). I stuffed the "food" into my bag and my train arrived within minutes. I noticed people were bypassing one of the entrances and stupid me thinks, "oh, I'll go through there, it's not crowded", only to step on and see a MASSIVE pile of puke to my right (ALL piles of puke around here are massive. It's true. I've seen far too many). I sit as far away as possible with my back to the revolting spectacle and exchange grimaces with the two already sitting in the area. The woman said "This is what I get for going through South Shields." Ouch. I haven't been to South Shields and this doesn't encourage me to visit. After the two get off the train, I'm alone, reading my Grazia. There's no one around me, and I forget what's behind me (it didn't smell, at least where I was sitting). So I take out the cheeseburger and dig in. A few stops later a guy gets on, sees "it", does the "AUGH!", stops short, and sits near me. I'm suddenly aware that I'm eating a greasy cheeseburger on public transportation in the vicinity of a giant puddle of sick. I slowly lower my hand beside my bag to hide it and chew the remaining bits in my mouth discreetly. I was thoroughly ashamed, and still am.

But that's not it. Three kids get on, two girls and a boy who could not have been older than 14 years old, and one of the girls was green. She's looking at the floor as if in a hazy, agonised state. She moves forward awkwardly and walks to where a boy is sitting several feet away, passing the offending sight which must have seemed a late foreshadowing of what was to come, sat down and let fly all over that poor kid (who I'm assuming she knew. Either way, this was not his night.) Despite my maternal instincts niggling at me to lecture the three of them about under-age drinking (I still would never), I felt sorry for the other girl who seemed sober and instead of laughing, or leaving, was truly sympathetic to her friend. So I gave her the only tissues I had in my bag - a package of bright, fairy-printed tissues that my mother-in-law gave my daughter. She went over to help the girl clean up (good luck), and when I got up to exit the train at my stop, I saw the new addition: Another massive pile of puke, this one decorated with fairies and daisies.

How I would have loved see the reactions to that. If I wasn't already about to launch myself.

The last time I took the metro home after arriving back from London, there was a drunk kid of about 18, walking up and down the carriage singing Show Me the Way to Amarillo at the top of his lungs, and quite well, actually, while carrying around a very long broomstick.

Aye, it's good to be home.

It's Not Me, It's You - Facchinetti Sacked From Valentino Via the Media

The farewell catchprase to see-off failed designers on the UK's Project Catwalk is "Fashion has no mercy." Alessandra Facchinetti would be inclined to agree. The creative director of Valentino, who took over for the man himself when he retired last year, found out she'd been sacked from stories in the media announcing her replacements. At the helm now is Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pier Paolo Piccioli, the team behind the successful accessories branch of the brand.

Vogue.co.uk reports that Facchinetti wrote in a public email after the show "It was with deep regret that I learnt from the press that I would no longer be working with Valentino.

"This news came as a great surprise since the company's top management has not yet seen fit to inform me. I would like to thank Valentino s.p.a. for showing their appreciation of my 'creative contribution and my sophisticated talent' although I deeply regret the fact that this talent and contribution do not seem to have been adequately acknowledged."

Valentino himself publicly welcomed the duo with whom he has worked closely with for years, and even got in a dig at Fracchinetti, saying "There is an existing archive with thousands of dresses where they (Chiuri and Piccioli) can draw and take inspiration from to create a Valentino product that is relevant today. It is a shame that their predecessor didn't feel this need."

As if things didn't sting enough. Yet, her third and last collection, just shown at Paris fashion week, garnered fairly positive reviews from the fashion editors who acknowledged the strengths along with the relatively minor weaknesses, weighing the output against the huge task of maintaining the essence of the Valentino brand while taking it forward. There seems to be consensus that she was headed in the right direction, and that in time she'd get it right.

Here's a look at a few dresses from the show:

The sporty side-slit in the dresses was considered to be an odd feature:

 

 

And, her take on the signature Valentino red evening dress was well-received:

Photos: Style.com

Lily Cole Poses for Playboy, the 'Classy' One

British model Lily Cole has posed for Playboy. Sound like an odd move for the doll-faced, flame-haired twenty year-old? Well, according to Marie Claire UK it's the French edition, which is supposed to be more artistic and sophisticated than the U.S. version. How that is possible, I don't know.

The 60s-inspired cover photo - in which Cole is wearing nothing but white socks, hair in pig tails and ribbons and clutching a large white teddy bear - is said to be influenced by French musician Serge Gainsbourg's Melody Nelson album. That cover depicts what looks like a young teenage girl, standing there in jeans and nothing else holding a doll against her chest. Kind of crossing a line, there was a lot of that in music in France in the 60s. And it's a theme that will likely be repeated until men cease to exist or they all become gay. (FYI, in case you didn't know - Gainsbourg was married to English singer/actress Jane Birkin, who Hermès named their famed bag after. And, Birkin's daughter Lou Doillon - father is director Jacques Doillon - also did the cover of French Playboy).

Anyway, a 14-page editorial entitled Sweet Lily follows (is this grossing you out, too?), including interviews with Jean Paul Gaultier and film director Terry Gilliam, among other industry colleagues and friends - who I trust are not clutching teddies.

As for other ventures, Lily Cole gets more exposure yet as a new face of Rimmel, along with singer Sophie Ellis-Bextor. Kate Moss stays on to feature in the Rimmel London campaign. For now. And...Mossy also did a famous knickers-only, stuffed animal-hugging shot back in the early 90s when she was barely out of her teens. I would have included photos of each of these undressed teddy-clutchers, but I'm trying to keep the eeeuuw factor low on my site. Urinary tracts are okay. However, you can see Lily here

Good Times, Strange Sights at London Fashion Week

 

London Fashion Week wrapped up tonight and what a week it was. Alongside stunning, inspired clothes that could be considered works of art, there were some truly bizarre concoctions. But fashion wouldn't be fashion without them, everything needs balance, right? And like people, someone, somewhere, loves them. It wasn't just the clothes that drew strange looks, however. The celeb element was out in full force for the shows and the celebrations, and while some were on their best behaviour, out to support their favourite designers, others were a bit of a spectacle. Again, it wouldn't be fashion without it, right?

Above, an out-of-place Pamela Anderson sits the front row for the Vivienne Westwood Red Label show, and yes, that's a real person beside her. Rumour has it it's her new pal Michael Jackson. If so, I'm guessing his whole head finally fell off and this was the best he could do at short notice.

Next is Kate Moss, who had a good time as always at the parties and had to be held up as she made her way to a waiting taxi, accompanied by a relatively more conscious Allegra Versace (I'm sorry, for some reason I just had to include this):

Photo: Dlisted

Agyness Deyn and Daisy Lowe grabbed some attention at Aggy's best mate Henry Holland's House of Holland after-party. She wore a sheer dress from his collection with strategically placed dots that just covered her naughty bits (the girl just can't look full-on skanky, can she?), and Daisy in the leopard print bodysuit she wore down the catwalk for Naomi Campbell's Fashion Relief show:

So, of the major London fashion scene players we've got Kate, Aggy, Daisy, ...which leaves Alice Delal and a Geldof or two, also at the House of Holland party. Here's Pixie (second), whose massive (Linda Farrow? NHS?) glasses give her a very Anastase look. Loving the smile, I didn't know she could do it:

Photos: Style.com

 Finally, a truly gorgeous Dita von Teese at the Vivienne Westwood Red Label show, looking not just a touch more elegant than Pam who was sitting nearby - although that cleavage is some serious competition for the blonde. But the milky white skin saves her from looking cheap, giving her that 18th century French aristocracy look and allowing her to get away with showing off the goods while remaining a lady. That, and she doesn't wear lucite platform heels with fluffy pompoms on them.

This is a really long photo and I've got some space to fill, so I'll just say that there are more shows to cover from London, coming soon. Then Milan begins Saturday. It's all a whirlwind, but there have been some exceptional collections that make it all worth it. And I'm still trying to think of ways I can make large amounts of cash quickly (preferably legally), so I can get my hands on some of these clothes. Unfortunately, they all seem to involve not wearing any clothes. Figures.

You smell putrid, is that Sécrétions Magnifiques you're wearing?

Well, at least it's not Britney Spears scent #5. Now available in the U.S. and Canada, French niche perfumerie État Libre d'Orange offers the more adventurous purveyor of olfactory delights (or more accurately, an alternative to them) Antoine Lie's Sécrétions Magnifiques, which translates to 'Magnificent Secretions'.

There's no 'lost in translation' thing going on here - they mean exactly what the name suggests. With notes that resemble blood, sweat, saliva, and uh, uh, sperm, the scent is meant to invoke associations that are aligned to the wearer's experiences. So, upon taking a whiff, a nun may say 'How metallic and salty' and a 'non'-nun may ask 'Where's the mouthwash?'

The actual logo for Sécrétions Magnifiques is one I can't even show here (well, I could. But if offends my tender sensibilities). Take a look at the État Libre d'Orange website Parfum page if you want to see it and other, uh, interesting artwork for the rest of the line, which includes Putain des Palaces. Panty sniffers rejoice.

I'm Blind But My Lashes are So Lush and Long!

If you aren't yet aware, you will be soon - eyelash enhancing is the obsession du jour. Extensions offer a solution for the short and skimpy, and a rapidly increasing range of conditioners and serums are promising to promote dramatic growth.

The extensions are about as appealing to me as Botox - the procedure requires regular and costly maintenance, about $60 to $100 every two to four weeks after the initial professional application at $350 to $500. Add that to an already budget-busting beauty routine and things are likely to get a bit hairy. (No lame pun intended, it just fit.)

So what about these 'miracle' lash conditioners? Well, Zinc magazine relays a cautionary message about them in their summer issue. Popular products like RevitaLash and Jan Marini Age Intervention Eyelash recently fell under scrutiny by the FDA, which seized thousands of tubes of the latter late last year because it contained the drug bimatoprost - also found in Allergan's glaucoma medication Lumigan.

"You run a lot of risk using these products", warns Dr. Debra Jaliman, spokeswoman for the American Academy of Dermatology and a Manhattan dermotologist. She explains that there are very serious possible side effects of the drug bimatoprost that include changing eye colour, irritation, blurry vision or even blindness. "I've seen a couple patients who reported blurry vision. I don't recommend it to anyone." That's all I need to hear.

Though admittedly, seeing one before-and-after photo online, the growth was so dramatic that I did wonder for a fraction of a second 'How much do I really use my eyes?'. Turns out I do use my eyes quite a bit, every day even. Anyway, how could I appreciate my gloriously hairy eyelids if I can't see them?

Which brings me right back to my recent 'miracle' find - and one that won't compromise your eyesight unless you poke yourself with it - the must-have Shu Uemera eyelash curler. I posted about this a few weeks ago, and since then I've become even more impressed with just how well it works. I have been able to abandon my eyelash primer altogether, and I now use about 1/3 of the mascara I needed when I didn't have the curler. So, this simple yet well designed tool not only curls in 30 seconds or less, but it saves me time and money. No need to spend upwards of $30 on the premium mascaras anymore (are they really any better anyway?). I'll stick with my £6 Rimmel. And you can also play around with falsies, go natural or wild with the loads of fashion styles available (those are Shu Uemera's here).

So, fellow fabulous lash seekers - I implore you, don't risk your vision until enough time has passed that we know for a fact that these products are safe. Does anyone remember that European hair serum in the 90s that doubled normal monthly hair growth? Exactly.

Jordan Launches Trampy Clothing Line for Horses

Funny, I was just thinking the other day that horses don't try hard enough. People seem to really love them and all, and why? It's not like they ever go out of their way for us. A little trot here, eat an apple there. Stand too close to one and it might even snort and blow snot all over you. So, what's to love?

Here to save the day is Katie Price 'aka' Jordan. John from Zimbio reports that our horses no longer have to be boring and go naked (although doing so did just fine for her career). Thanks to her new equine clothing line, they can look just as ridiculous as the former glamour model and exploiter of everything close to her (now including barnyard animals).

I do love the leg wrappings, meant to look like knee socks. And the pink painted hooves? Darling. If only you could add a few inches without risking a broken leg. But why not try, Katie? You know she thought about it. If you lift up the coat, no doubt there is a frilly pink thong underneath.

Is it just me or does that horse look genuinely frightened? I'm with you, friend. I really am.

Photo by Flynet Pictures

"It Bag Gangs" Target Luxury Goods Shops in London

Bold smash-and-grab thefts of handbags in London's upscale designer shops are increasing, reports British Vogue in the September issue.

Louis Vuitton, Luella Bartley, Marc Jacobs, Anya Hindmarch and Sonia Rykiel are just a few of the shops targeted by "scooter gangs" - criminals on mopeds who drive through the windows and take what they want. Oddly, they don't clear out the shop; rather, they pick and choose very specific handbags. This suggests they are taking orders, possibly for collectors who don't want to wait. It's all speculative at this point, as tracking of the stolen goods has proved unsuccessful.

Metropolitan Police say the gangs work in groups of six or more young men, and there are currently about six gangs operating in London. They work for a middleman who shifts the goods which are thought to be transported overseas, "likely Russia and the United Arab Emirates where you can still get a high price for a designer bag."

Designers aren't only hit at the retail level. In August 2007, a shipment of shoes that Alice Temperley had co-designed with Christian Louboutin for her S/S 2008 collection in New York was stolen during transport in Italy during what appears to be a planned hijacking. Oddly, they've never turned up anywhere.

More devastating is that some thefts could potentially ruin careers. Christopher Kane, one of London's brightest new talents, was burglarised eight days before the start of last September's London fashion week. Ignoring the neighbouring photography studios filled with expensive equipment, the thieves entered Kane's and carefully hand-picked items, says Kane "as if they were in a shop". Fortunately, he was able to remake the missing pieces in time to show his third collection, which was a hit. Had the entire collection been stolen, Kane acknowledges that in "such an unforgiving industry" he would have been "ruined".

We're so glad you weren't, Christopher Kane. 

Forget the 'It' Bag, Find Yourself a 'Me' Bag

 

Despite all the bags I have (several, but not a freakish amount, and they still all get used), there was one key style I was missing. I needed a practical bag that looked good, something that fit my bulky camera, wallet, make-up bag (must always have concealer and lip gloss), notebook (yes, the paper kind) and possibly my little ASUS Eee PC. Without looking ridiculous or weighing me down. And it had to go with everything.

While in Toronto I kept my eye out but didn't think I could justify buying yet another bag. And seeing as I'm doing clutches for fall that wasn't going to cut it. As luck would have it, a very generous family member suggested I buy a bag as a birthday gift and my heart nearly exploded with glee. Out of curiosity, I strolled into Holt Renfew, past the odd, cheerful fellow at the doors, looking to browse the end-of-season sale. I go off on a rant now about what I saw on the sale table so if you want to read it click here.

I just happened to find one the one bag, from MARC by MARC JACOBS, (I'm so loving this line this year) that ticked all the boxes and was a (relatively) good price. At least it wasn't $2500 on sale and damaged in horrific ways (see rant). Anyway, turns out my Groovee doctor's bag (did my mother name this one?) is awesome, it fits everything with lots of space to spare and is constructed to look good while hauling a load (comes with a detachable thick strap if you're really weighed down). Mine is black (they only had black but it works) and it comes in purple as seen above, plus a putty shade. My one 'must' for spending large amounts of cash on fashion is that I use or wear the item for years to justify the cost, and usually I do. I think we'll be friends for a long time.

You can find the bag and other pieces from the new Fall 2008 collection at Net-a-Porter.com by clicking Marc by Marc Jacobs. And while I'm on about the brand, isn't this a wonderfully fresh take on the ruffle front top with its zip and asymmetry (loooove it):

Untucked Shirt Guy - No Rose For You!

Now that I'm in Canada I came across The Bachelorette the other night, it was the 'meet the bachelors' parents' episode so I decided to watch, there are usually a few nutters along the way. I haven't seen The Bachelor in ages, we don't get it in the UK unless you count the first few series which air from time to time at 4 am on LivingTV. Don't ask me how I know that.

The guy that bachelorette DeAnna was really insane for was Graham, who was the token aloof jerk who went on a show to win a girl who wants to get married yet he won't 'open up'. Maybe his mother made him go on, I don't know. Anyway, the four bachelors get ready to line up for the rose ceremony, the first three walking in wearing suits. Last, enter a dopey-grinned Graham in jeans with a jacket over a red sweater and a white shirt HANGING OUT from under the sweater, sauntering in with hands in pockets and all the charm of a guy who just dropped off a urine sample.

Guess what, he didn't get a rose. Jesse, the Sonny Crockett for 2008, got it instead. That's right, the short, greasy haired Gonzo-esque guy in a white cotton suit was a more dignified choice. Aloof Dude, you blew it with the shirt. I will bet Don Johnson's gay porn collection that as soon as DeAnna saw that stupid shirt, and those stupid jeans, and those stupid hands in those pockets her blood was set to boil.

She walked him out and she cited his inability to open up as the reason for letting him go, and through angry tears told him that his 'swaying and smirking' as roses were being given out was difficult to watch. But I just know she walked in unsure and it was those rogue shirt tails that put the nail in the coffin.

Guys, when it counts, you can never go wrong with a good suit, proper posture and hands you can see. Or you can be Aloof Guy and be alone with your hands in your pants.

Crying Babies and Gang Initiations: More Than Just a Friendly Warning?

A Swelle Public Service Announcment: You know those emails you get every so often (if you're a woman) from a concerned friend (usually female) that warn of frightening and unpredictable tactics used by would-be rapists and murderers? Like the one where the guy plays a recording of a crying baby on the doorstep in the night to lure out unsuspecting women? Or the guy who sneaks into the back of a woman's car while she's paying for gas, then gives it all up to the police that he was going to abduct and kill a woman for his gang initiation?

There's an interesting article in today's Guardian exploring the motivation of the people who create and spread these fictitious emails in the first place. It's well worth the read, especially for those of us who mean well when we forward them to others. HINT - if any email you receive asks you to 'PLEASE PASS THIS ON! (with an overuse of capitals and exclamation points) - that's the spammers' calling card. It's not only those emails trying to sell you the latest wang enlargement elixir that are attempting to prey on us, these 'safety' emails are least a nuisance and at worst, harmful fear-mongering. (One of the aforementioned spam messages came to Other Half with this tantalising first-person testimonial:  'I know I have tough and fat man-meat, it got more juicy too.' ?????).

Read the article here

I did a little Googling and also found that the disturbing (and highly suspect) story about gang members driving with their lights off, only to kill the first person to flash their headlights is also false (you may be saying 'Well, DUH!' but there are people who are genuinely frightened and saddened upon hearing these things, the spammer wins). No reports can be found anywhere in the US (where the story originated) to substantiate these claims, according to Snopes.com. This story first appeared in the 1950s. The urban legend-exposing website reports that attacks on random strangers are extremely rare and that the usual gang intitiation, known as the 'jump in', involves the gang severely beating the new recruit. Good, then.

Oh - if you're wondering what the photo above has to do with this, it's nothing at all. I couldn't think of anything relevant I'd want to put with the words, so I used a photo of a little composition my daughter created with her chalks after drawing a picture.  

Think Twice Before Buying From American Apparel

UPDATE: Prompted by Swelle reader Tpap's question about whether these cases are ever resolved, I looked into the lawsuits filed in 2005 by former employees and found an impressively fair and comprehensive investigation by Knowmore.org. You can read it at here.

In the end, these four suits were 'dismissed with prejudice' which seems to vindicate Charney. However, it is claimed that the parties reached a confidential settlement where this verdict was agreed upon by both parties.

The latest suit is still in litigation.

If you read the details of the investigation it eventually becomes clear that Charney is what he appears to be, and he knows it. On the record, he shamelessly admits to - or more accurately, boasts about - creating a sexually charged workplace as a sort of personal playground (and among other shocking statements casually claims that 'women invite domestic violence into their lives'), which in my mind is enough to render the lawsuits redundant and irrevelent, in terms of forming a personal opinion. Which is all we really need to know in the end, isn't it?

By the way, the creepy guy in the ads is Charney himself (To your eyeballs: I SINCERELY apologise. As for me, I must now rinse my mouth with baking soda - UCH!):

 

Original post: The Guardian has featured an article detailing the perverse antics of Dov Charney, the Montreal-born founder and CEO of Los Angeles clothing retailer American Apparel. Claims of his wildly inappropriate behaviour toward both female and male employees are being heard in sexual harrassment suits (brought by females only so far). He is also known to conduct meetings while wearing a thong, something he defends by saying he designs underwear, so why not? (And there I thought boredom was the worst thing about work meetings. Imagine?!)

While his antics and repulsive behaviour toward his employees (too lewd to mention here) don't call into question the supposed ethical production of the clothes, they do certainly turn me off, especially when I consider the typical perviness of the company's ads (many shot by Charney himself).

I've never been an American Apparel customer and I certainly won't be. One might say, 'Well, how do I know that every other person behind the clothes I buy isn't the same? Do I really need to worry about the character of the people who sell me clothes?' That's entirely up to you, but the way I see it is if you're aware, and it doesn't sit right, there are plenty of other places to spend your money. Besides, do we really need to support these creeps and give them any more power than what they already have?

You can read the article here. (It's a fairly quick read.)

First photo is Will Farrell in the SNL skit 'Pride of America'

Hell No! House of Dereon Deserves a 'Time Out'

This disturbing advertisement is brought to you by the classy ladies of House of Deréon (that's Tina and Béyonce Knowles and possibly an ex-stripper as creative director).

Deréon's (better known as 'Derriére') girls' range of pre-school pimpette costumes are now available online and in abandoned suburban strip malls near you. I'm going to have a nightmare tonight about getting cornered in a dark alley by a gang of inappropriately-attired 6 year-old street toughs who all at once kick me repeatedly in the shins before strangling me with their hot pink feather boas.

Look at the little blonde girl in the top left photo - how young is she? Baby chub-cheeks really complement red lipstick. She looks two years old, I bet she's wearing Huggies Pull-Ups under her black denim thong.

And check out the shoes on 'Baby Bloods' in the main photo, what the heck is that about? Skyscraper heels will only slow you down when defending your turf against the Crips.

I first saw this on dlisted (who linked to my Carla Bruni post, thank you Michael K) and didn't want to dirty up my pretty site with the photo (although my previous post on Larry King already took care of that), but I just had to express my outrage - as a mother, as a woman, as a person who can see. How wrong is it to put these types of images of young children out there?? This is for you, too, Bratz people!!   

He's Beautiful and He Has That Bad Boy Attitude

I just had to share this sexy and adorable photo of Larry King. I saw it on Candy Kirby and found myself returning to it whenever I felt like laughing out loud, it just keeps on giving. I'm going to print it, make a dozen copies and post it all around my house during prime PMSing as a reminder of how everyone else sees me.

As my other half said, "He looks like a frog taking a crunch." Agreed.

Love for Viv

Last night I watched Project Catwalk, Britain's version of Project Runway, as I do every Wednesday. It was the episode before the final three are chosen to show at London Fashion Week and some of the designers really put the 'Catty' in Catwalk. Fellow Canadian expat Chelsey (in the back) and self professed 'straight lad' Ross (demonstrating his straightness by seemingly attempting to board a passenger into Pam An's fuselage) were confronted by mentor Ben de Lisi about their feeling that Viv Whelan (far left), a 42 year-old self-taught mum of three is 'just a dress-maker' who 'doesn't deserve to be here'. They got a thorough reaming by a vexed Ben who did it in front of the remaining group which included an unwitting and therefore somewhat humiliated Viv. Afterward, Ross seemed to have smoothed things over with Viv who handled it gracefully but I'm sure the whole thing stuck in her craw. I don't know what a craw is but if she has one there was probably something in it.

The cliquiness of the non-Vivs made me think about how formal education in the creative arts can cultivate rigidity in its students. This certainly wouldn't apply to everyone, I'm speaking in general terms; that when approaching art academically, in an institutional setting with professors and lecturers and reading lists and scheduled times to 'create ' in a predetermined location of predetermined wall colour and decor, there's an unconscious conditioning that results in the defining of the chosen discipline in absolute terms, and any deviation is seen as ungifted-ness and unworthiness and grounds for peer disqualification from following in said discipline. That was a long sentence.

There's a powerful sense of entitlement that can come with formal training. You've become one of the Chosen, selected for admission to a competitive program and identified in a certain way for the duration of the two or three or four years it took to get the paper that tells the world that you officially know your shit. Viv is an outsider and doesn't have the docs that say she can play with the big kids. And yet somehow she won a challenge (for streetwear at that) and received high praise for her Mac dress; if she were younger and they didn't know her background or had only seen her completed work, would the others have figured out she was 'different'? I doubt it.

These students are heavily reliant on validation. Their hearts and souls are continually handed over to be judged as they anticipate the verdict on whether they're 'good', not just as artists but as individuals, it's who they are after all. It can be very threatening and destablizing to have someone who followed their own, less or differently structured path, compete with you on equal ground. How do you justify the time and effort you've spent, and more significantly, what is the value of the positive appraisals given to you by 'those who know' if anyone from the street can stroll in and show you up? What are you then?

This is in no way a suggestion that formal training is a bad thing. I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in visual arts and did two years of advertising creative in college. And for gawd's sake I'm married to a professor. My view is really a composite of my experience at university as a painter, essentially, and my journey (geez I really hate that word but I can't think of a better one at this ungodly time of night) into self-directed learning in my new chosen field (that I discovered outside of school). I can appreciate both sides.

In time, when dear Chelsey and Ross are established and successful, I'll wager a pint they'll feel silly about having made such a fuss over Viv. Or they'll blame it on creative editing.