Sirens calling.

I was walking through campus in the morning yesterday when I noticed that Sydney Uni's Great Hall had been commandeered by Fashion People. It was preparations for Madison magazine's Sex, Frocks & Rock n' Roll Awards. There was a little installation positioned outside, comprised of several plastic Louis XV 'Ghost' chairs (which strike me now as a the height of dagginess. Remember in Sex and the City when Carrie goes to the Parisian restaurant, Kong, with Petrovsky's ex-wife? I love how the latter describes the Ghost chairs as 'heed-ious'.) and silver mannequins (gawd) artfully strewn in a heap.

In the night I walked passed the Great Hall again and the shindig was in full swing. Outside the hall a band were playing and I was totally captivated. I asked a security guard who they were and he very nicely went to find out, returning to inform me they were The Preachers. Woah nelly, what a band.

Isabella Manfredi is the female vocalist and my goodness, if she isn't the sexiest performer I've ever seen. Voice like PJ Harvey, Patti Smith (who they covered) bla bla bla. One of the lovely boys in the band gave me their EP and I gotta say, it's pretty exciting. Universe, I have a wish. I want Isabella Manfredi and Eleanor Dunlop of Cameras to do a duet cover of Desert Sessions' Crawl Home. Manfredi would be the Peej, der.

As I walked home I pondered over what an interesting night it had been. Then I met a man walking his two pet goats:

No kid-ing. HAAAA!

Seriously though. It did happen. Am I on crack?

Cravings.

Here are Dorothea Barth Jorgensen and Amanda Norgaard:

 

I like to think of Rapunzel as being a story about pregnancy cravings.

There's a really lovely moment in the movie Junebug where Amy Adams' (heavily pregnant) character has a sudden urge to drink her 'Cinnamon Fizz' nail polish. It's a brilliant movie. I recommend it.

Soul-satisfying. How delightful.

This cottage in the Catskills, New York, belongs to Sandra Foster (pictured) who renovated the whole thing herself. It's like she lives in some Tim Walker fantasy land. If there aren't fairies at the bottom of her garden, there are none anywhere.

Read the New York Times article on Foster and her husband, who dwells in a trailer elsewhere on the property, here.

Face down ass up, that's the way...

Image stolen from the SMH website

Ruby Rose was looking damn fine at the ASTRA awards. It's nice to have some interesting fashion moments on an Australia red carpet.
She reminds me of Leila Hyams in Tod Browning's The Freaks:

break ya neck.

Oh my god, everyone please shut up about the Awkward Lean Blog. The comments are unfunny, anonymous nastiness. And it gets worse:

How is that ironic?
I actually don't know why the website gets my goat so bad. Maybe it's because I picture a skinny, ass-hat hipster guy writing all the comments. Perhaps it's because I'm jealous of the neck strength of its subjects - though I know if I ever actually attempted to do an awkward lean, I would hear in my head the voice of George Sanders in All About Eve: 'You're too short for that gesture.'

Let's go surfing. Now.

Here is a photo from the October 1967 issue of Vogue Australia (scanned from In Vogue: 50 Years of Australian Style):

The girl is Marisa Berenson, who you may know from such films as Barry Lyndon and, well... nothing else I've seen. Interesting Berenson fact, her grandmother was the insanely awesome designer Elsa Schiaparelli. Also, she was the first model to appear on the cover of TIME magazine.

Here is Abbey Lee Kershaw's cover from March this year.

Gotta love changing representations of beach culture in Vogue. It's evolution, baby.

What the hell is folk music?

Here is Michelle Phillips of the Mamas & the Papas:

Absolute dinger.

She makes me want to become a Girl Scout and I feel she is a much better ambassador for the beret than the oft-referenced Patty Hearst - personally I think there is something rather distasteful about the 1970s-era Hearst being held up as a fashion icon. 

True Romance.

I had my Romance Was Born 'oh now I get it' moment when I saw this purse. There is something very sweet about them having chosen Washingtons over Benjamins. You can buy it for a song here.

I know I came massively late to the RWB party, but I'm here now and ready to dance.

It's damn exciting to see concept and execution so tight.

Oh baby, that bitch is spilt.

In honour of Australia's first female Prime Minister, here is Margaret Thatcher:

(Played by Vivienne Westwood.)

Long may you reign, Julia.

A different taste in my mouth/ I take time.

So, the watch brand Storm London has sent out a few questions for bloggers to answer, and I must say they tickle my history-nerd fancy. Question the first:

1. When was the time you felt most inspired by fashion?
The New York Metropolitan Museum of Art collection database is like fashion porn, and definitely a go-to when I'm feeling less than inspired. In particular the Met collection has helped turn my interest in Art Deco geometric styles into a full-blown obsession. Probably why my eyes were first drawn to this baby on the Storm London website:

2. When was the time you were proudest of your outfit or style?

Honestly, it's all been downhill from here.

3. What is the Time in Fashion you would most like to return to?
You know, I think we have it pretty good right about now. When else in history have humans had the same opportunity (and inclination) to pillage fashions of the past in order to create new styles? I know proper fashion people bemoan the recycling of 20th century decades for new trends, but personally I love wearing a 1920s drop-waisted dress one day, and a 1950s cinch-belt the next.
But if have to give a non-pussy answer, I'll say I'd go back to the days when the Indian Head test card was displayed on television off-hours.

I mention it because the design was the first thing I thought of when I saw this watch:

Very sexy.

Check out the rest of the Storm London collection here: https://www.stormwatches.com.au/.

I'm under Evelyn Waugh.

I just watched the movie A Handful of Dust and boyoboy the Jane Robinson-designed 1930s costumes are beautiful. Check out these shoulders:

There's a superb rhinestone detail when she turns to her side.

And I've decided I'd like to see more cowl necks on the red carpet.

Kristin Scott Thomas is so pretty in this movie. I mean, I know she's still snow-queen beautiful, but she was a different kind of gorgeous back in the day.

I can't believe it's not...

Oh god, I want this witchery jacket in black more than anything else in life. No hyperbole. (p.s. I once heard a girl pronounce the word hyperbole, 'hyper-bowl'. Like Super Bowl, ha!)

In the absence of any gainful employment in my life I can't really justify it but being a masochist, I went and tried it on and was reminded of why some people choose not to buy all their clothes at Salvos. Remember in Maid In Manhattan when JLo's sassy older friend touches the Dolce and Gabbana coat and says 'It's like butter'? This jacket is channeling the same dairy goodness.
If I were a rich girl, I would buy both the black and the blush, as well as another amazing metallic bouclé jacket that's in there too. Universe, oblige me.

killer scene

Oooh, look at this dress by local label Sulkenka. The designer, Angela Fredericks, studied at East Sydney Tafe:

I love the whole sexed-up, dirty-California look, and the fit of the dress looks pretty impeccable. I think the high-waisted pants worn underneath save it from becoming too Balmain.

The vibe of the dress makes me think of the Queens of the Stone Age video for Go With The Flow, incidentally the greatest video clip ever made:

So freaking sexy. Look out around the 00:56 second mark when they run over the bug. The poor beast's splattered body spells out 'Shynola', the name of the company who created the video.

Mum, I'm famous.

This is quite strange but I'm chuffed as anything to have gotten a mention on the blog Fashademic. I have no idea who the person who thinks I'm stylish is (though again, massive chuffery going on over here) but so I don't get too big a head, and in the interest of full disclosure I think I should document what I happened to be wearing when I read the blog post.

1) Ugg ankle boots. Yes, they exist, though in fact this pair belongs to my mum whose feet are considerably smaller then mine. My heels therefore hang over the backs of the shoes.
2) Grey Bonds trackie daks. Paint splattered (Dulux, ecru 1/2 strength) from when I gave my bedroom an ill-advised DIY makeover. These are definitely not the cool new daks which apparently now count as after-5 wear. Nope, in fact these babies have even lost the elastic around the waist, thus necessitating...
3) Three woolen cardigans, tucked into the waist of said pants, creating sufficient bulk as to keep said said pants up. Noice.
4) The Pièce de résistance, a pillow case on my head, coupled with a headband to keep it in place. It was to keep my ears warm.

And there it is.

At the risk of this turning into a massive circle jerk, I have to say I am loving what I have read so far on Fashademic. Unfortunately I like milk AND cucumber. I hope we can still be friends.

I carried a watermelon?

Ha ha. Sometimes the internet can be funny.

Your epidermis is showing.

How amazing is this? Don't answer that question - I know exactly how amazing it is: Very. These images are from medical supply company Eizo's version of the Pirelli calender.

I know where I'll be heading next time I need to buy some syringes and saline in bulk.
See more here.

Fantasia taught me about music.

(photo stolen from neon signs of happiness)

Remember this Ksubi sweater? I loved it. I love it.

But look what I found in a 1964 Sydney Morning Herald:

Maybe I like it more! Probs not though, as it looks like the composers' names on the Ksubi one are knitted in. Gotta give respect where it's due.

Tits Goodcompany.

George Cukor and his women:

Terry and his:

What happened to us?

Girlitude? Ugh.

I just finished reading Emma Tennant's abominably titled memoirs, Girlitude: A Portrait of the 50s and 60s. It was disappointing partly because it was of little help to the essay I am currently meant to be writing on 1960s fashion, and partly because I though it would be a bit like reading a Nancy Mitford novel (it wasn't). To be fair, Tennant has lived a pretty painfully cool life so maybe I'm just a bit jealous. My favourite bit was when she described a bohemian friend, Judy Montagu, with whom (along with a Cartier-stealing maid) she stayed in Italy. Judy had a friend name Laetizia Buoncompagnia who was referred to as 'Tits Goodcompany'. Would it were me with so bangin'  a moniker.

So why the picture of Daphne Guinness, you ask? Well, monkeys, it's jolly nice. 

...also I know they're related somehow.

the right lux

A little while back some fashion magazine or another ran a photo shoot that explicitly referenced Sofia Coppola's The Virgin Suicides as its inspiration. The clothes were more Picnic at Hanging Rock than The Virgin Suicides, but what really bugged me was that all the photos were saturated with a bright white light. I am a devotee of Coppola's (I even liked her in the Godfather Part Three, shoot me) and I've always thought of her three studio films as each being a different colour.

Yellow (not white!):

Blue:

and Pink:

If I were looking for white-light inspiration, I would have gone to the final scene of Kaos by the Taviani Brothers:

let's live it up

I DIE for this bracelet:

It basically looks just like those bronze-dipped baby shoes, except rather than commemorating the early years of an infant's life, you're remembering the first time you went to an 80s-themed dance party wearing a scrunchie and stockings you cut the feet off.

Wait... we're already at 90s revivals? Man, time goes by so fast.

the new you

Every few years or so I find myself overcome with the urge to get my WASP on, and I fear we may be approaching such a period now. I want to be one of those girls with hair always perfectly in place, nail polish intact and stockings un-rutted. My style icon will be Olivia Palermo (I must confess I have become a pathetic addict of The City. Ugh.) 

My money will be plentiful and old. I will wear pearl and marcasite stud earrings and grey cashmere sweaters. I will not give a honking laugh when I find something amusing, but rather smile serenely. This is the new me. You wait.

birth

I am so unfashionably late on talking about the Being Born Again fashion show, but it's just too fabulous for me to let it flutter by. The event was organised by the rather lovely Davina Reichman who has featured on this blog before. Collaborative creativity between artists and fashion designers was the driving force behind the show. My personal favourite is the CASI((O)) & ANTO creation:

Though I also have a lot of love for Guy Peppin/ Nicola Finetti's work:

And, whaddayano, Tracey Moffatt's work made an appearance too. She was the subject of this blog's very first post, so it's all a bit of reunion up in herre.

It's all too lovely. Please, please Davina, do another?

We all march together for love is behind.

Taken from the Facebook group 'Staunch fans of Little Edie Beale'.

'Grey Gardens' is really tremendous, and I think it was a lovely fashion moment when a few years back, magazines started promoting Little Edie as a style icon.

get low!

My delicious woven-toed pumps have arrived from Etsy and I just adore them:

I'm really feeling (relatively) low heels at the moment, especially coupled with a mini-length skirt, 1960s stylee. Basically, I wanna be her:

dirrrty

I just received an email telling me about the opening of the online store, Dirty Rich. I've had a look look look at the website and I must say some of the stuff is rather fabulous.

I especially appreciate the Hold Me Tight dress, as it reminds me of Janet Jackson circa. 1993:

Also, I have just learned via wikipedia that the 'Janet.' album title was meant to be pronounced 'Janet, period'. How bizarre!

Update: I just noticed that I have two titty-clutching posts in a row. Sigmund Freud, analyse this.

ooh ooh aah aah

I don't fully understand what tumblr is (it's just people sharing images, no?), but I like a lot of the stuff I've seen. The Bo$$'s Daughter (I don't know what the rule is when an 's' comes after an apostrophe following a dollar sign. Lolcats.) is one I often check in on. There is a lot (A LOT) of ghetto T&A.

I like it. It's lusty.