A Melburnian winter. The most perfect of all seasons. Contrasts compete for our attention. Sunny, cloudless skies carelessly intermingle with freezing cold winds.
Rain falls of its own volition. Either masses of it, or discreet little showers.
Either way, one cannot escape the climatically-induced changes to dressing and living in this Magnificent "Ville".
Melbourne. Pleasure to all of the senses. A fashionista's dream. A cultural force.
A place where hopefully only very few (fashion-related) faux-pas are made.
By its very definition, this is a city that defines the style of the Antipodean outlook. Only Wellington can begin to compare. (That is a whole other story)
Sitting here on this rainy weekend, I cannot believe just how simple our pleasures are. Sitting at Tucci Brown in Brighton, and yesterday at Manakish in Elsternwick- I was stirred by the beauty of the breeze flying... My FENDI shawl billowing, and my fragrance permeating the air. Until I remembered, winter brings out the the ferals.
Like some tribe known to totally exist of a sense of primeval "style".
The ferals have a way of making themselves known wherever they may hail from. Bad hair, mis-matched foundation, and a genuine sense of judgement (you read that correctly) for anyone who embraces chic.
More to the point, maybe it is because I accessorise with high-end pieces from the prèt-a-porter féminin... Either way, I couldn't care less for what those philistines have to say or think... After all, I don't wear a scrunchy in my hair.
Ultimately, Judgy-Wudgy was a bear. And this Judgy-Wudgy frankly, doesn't care!
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Saturday, 21 July 2012
Lana can't sing live... Who cares?
When I think of he empowered elements of the défilé, there is quite simply nothing that makes the experience as truly wonderful as the soundtrack.
From the halcyon days of the 1980s when Yves Saint Laurent sent models down he runway to the best of Frey's "The Heat Is On" - bare-breasted, one shouldered togas... There was no turning back.
Music had become the quintessential entrée into the world of the rarefied Salons du Mode.
If I could, I would sit down and rationalise my top 1,000 songs of the shows. Soundtracks have become a ubiquitous part of the Fashion Universe.
Lana del Rey features quite strongly on my list. From the flowing, dark and dangerous BORN TO DIE, to the sexual undertones of OFF TO THE RACES.
She knows how to evoke the various incarnations personified by the designers themselves. DIET MOUNTAIN DEW transforms me into a Denizen of PRADA's 2012 Spring-Summer collection.
ABC's perennially chic début album THE LEXICON OF LOVE arguably won the title of the greatest album of the 80s, as voted by SKY magazine. Melodies equally at home in the long-gone boys' clubs of the 50's... Slickness, lyrics of enchantment, the battles of the sexes in Love. This album couldn't do any wrong.
Even THE LOOK OF LOVE received a major makeover in 1990. This track fed my soul, my desire to design, and perfected by strut, as styled by feel of the times.
Saint Etienne's classic remake of Young's classic ONLY LOVE CAN BREAK YOUR HEART graced the runways of Lagerfeld, post Inès de la Fressange for Chanel.
Ah, soundtracks. They maketh the mood of the collection come to life.
Who are we entrusting the future of recording the world of fashionable music for posterity? We must try - are future generations were aware of how things really were?
Until then, I will feel many moments. Especially the eternal sense of chic that emanates from LOVE IS A STRANGER.
Strutting through life, many will ask: WHO'S THAT GIRL!
Girl? Wrong? Who's that Gougou?
A queen?
A king?
A stalwart of individuality?
A protector of a bygone era, lived with passion?
Or, all of the above?
There is no accounting for taste, style or image.
Only the truth can be accepted. Style is mutably immutable. Only those open to themselves can understand that change is as obvious as we choose to make it, if at all.
Until next we speak, listen to Paloma. Respect. Miuccia. Dream of Patrizio. Love PRADA, and desire to understand what I am talking about.
Bisous.
Gougou, x.
Ps, Simon may not say, but I think where Dior is concerned: Simons says!
Just ask Raf.
Aren't we going to love his work even more than ever now?
From the halcyon days of the 1980s when Yves Saint Laurent sent models down he runway to the best of Frey's "The Heat Is On" - bare-breasted, one shouldered togas... There was no turning back.
Music had become the quintessential entrée into the world of the rarefied Salons du Mode.
If I could, I would sit down and rationalise my top 1,000 songs of the shows. Soundtracks have become a ubiquitous part of the Fashion Universe.
Lana del Rey features quite strongly on my list. From the flowing, dark and dangerous BORN TO DIE, to the sexual undertones of OFF TO THE RACES.
She knows how to evoke the various incarnations personified by the designers themselves. DIET MOUNTAIN DEW transforms me into a Denizen of PRADA's 2012 Spring-Summer collection.
ABC's perennially chic début album THE LEXICON OF LOVE arguably won the title of the greatest album of the 80s, as voted by SKY magazine. Melodies equally at home in the long-gone boys' clubs of the 50's... Slickness, lyrics of enchantment, the battles of the sexes in Love. This album couldn't do any wrong.
Even THE LOOK OF LOVE received a major makeover in 1990. This track fed my soul, my desire to design, and perfected by strut, as styled by feel of the times.
Saint Etienne's classic remake of Young's classic ONLY LOVE CAN BREAK YOUR HEART graced the runways of Lagerfeld, post Inès de la Fressange for Chanel.
Ah, soundtracks. They maketh the mood of the collection come to life.
Who are we entrusting the future of recording the world of fashionable music for posterity? We must try - are future generations were aware of how things really were?
Until then, I will feel many moments. Especially the eternal sense of chic that emanates from LOVE IS A STRANGER.
Strutting through life, many will ask: WHO'S THAT GIRL!
Girl? Wrong? Who's that Gougou?
A queen?
A king?
A stalwart of individuality?
A protector of a bygone era, lived with passion?
Or, all of the above?
There is no accounting for taste, style or image.
Only the truth can be accepted. Style is mutably immutable. Only those open to themselves can understand that change is as obvious as we choose to make it, if at all.
Until next we speak, listen to Paloma. Respect. Miuccia. Dream of Patrizio. Love PRADA, and desire to understand what I am talking about.
Bisous.
Gougou, x.
Ps, Simon may not say, but I think where Dior is concerned: Simons says!
Just ask Raf.
Aren't we going to love his work even more than ever now?
Friday, 13 July 2012
Can anyone beat her?
Contentious issues are the order of the day. At this stage, I intend to set the cat amongst the pigeons by declaring a statement of such magnitude, its repercussions will be felt for a long time to come.
I
Am
About
To
Declare
The
BEST
WALK
On
The
Défilé.
Yes. I said it. I am throwing caution to the wind, speaking my mind, and not holding back! This issue is so central to who I am, how I think. What I feel. How my life is motivated, or perhaps what dominates my life.
I am going to make a statement. I must back it up with nothing short of conviction.
Who? Is she famous? Is it a past face... A star in the making? A current champion of the boards?
From which collection does the mention pertain to? Am I going to jump on the Miuccia bandwagon, or not at all...?
Hmmm, should I say it? Hold my peace?
................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................. Award goes to Maria-Carla Boscono in the miu miu Fall 2011 collection.
Her stride, her presence, her innate sense of ownership. That show was hers, for a reason.
Move over Parisiennes, the Italians are here.
No wonder Miuccia chose her to open the show.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwB21kp7HwA&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Until next time,
Bisous, Gougou. X.
I
Am
About
To
Declare
The
BEST
WALK
On
The
Défilé.
Yes. I said it. I am throwing caution to the wind, speaking my mind, and not holding back! This issue is so central to who I am, how I think. What I feel. How my life is motivated, or perhaps what dominates my life.
I am going to make a statement. I must back it up with nothing short of conviction.
Who? Is she famous? Is it a past face... A star in the making? A current champion of the boards?
From which collection does the mention pertain to? Am I going to jump on the Miuccia bandwagon, or not at all...?
Hmmm, should I say it? Hold my peace?
................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................. Award goes to Maria-Carla Boscono in the miu miu Fall 2011 collection.
Her stride, her presence, her innate sense of ownership. That show was hers, for a reason.
Move over Parisiennes, the Italians are here.
No wonder Miuccia chose her to open the show.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwB21kp7HwA&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Until next time,
Bisous, Gougou. X.
Friday, 6 July 2012
We don't need another hero.... We don't need to know the way know the way home
... What we want is life beyond the Thunderdome.
So sang Tina Turner in Mad Max 3 in 1985. I remember watching the movie at the Greater Union Cinemas on Russell Street.
I had just turned thirteen. It was school holidays. My friend Wayne de Kretser had invited me to go and see the film with him.
There was I. Year eight at school. Movies with a friend and my sister. Deep down, the whole
post-apocalyptic theme took over and made me feel rather uncomfortable. After all, this was the mid 1980s, threat of Nuclear War was always at the foremost thought.
No matter where we turned. The East was unfavourable. The West was on heightened alert. Thatcherism and Reaganism were the order of the day.
Harriet Hubbard-Ayer still existed on the Australian market. Arden and Rubinstein still maintained their own standing, so to speak.
Anyway, back from my meandering direction (talk about a "tangent") - I was there watching a movie that made me feel uncomfortable.
Nearly three decades later, I was watching the Fall-Winter 2012 collection by PRADA.
I was struck by many thoughts. George -and-Mildred-meets-mad-Max-3- with a dash of 70s wallpaper thrown in.
Although the maquillage has been at best described as Avatar-inspired. It is a most powerful collection to review. To view. To enjoy.
The jury is still out with me. I watch it, and still feel scared. I also revel in the ability of this collection to restore my sense of youth. A sense of spirit and discovery that leaves me feeling younger and reborn. A collection that challenges my cerebral comfort zones.
Ultimately, I am totally honest in saying that I love the fact that again, as always. Miuccia takes the "ho-hum" and turns the pedestrian into the bastion of chic.
How does she do it, and still find time to slide from her office, into a world of homemade pasta? Oh, and yes... Whilst wearing a skirt.
How, indeed. I ask you.
Spare a thought for the others out there, in the land of Moda.
As I put finger to keyboard, the laboratory of the Paris Couture is taking place. Exploding into the visual world of the consumer. The sybarite. The connoisseur. The skeptic. The neophyte. The humble. The interested, and above all, the concerned.
Raf Simons' debut at the August Maison Dior will leave us all (hopefully) wanting more.
Can Jil Sander make things work at her eponymous label, where she has not been visible for many a season?
Only time will tell.
Until then.
Stay couture-loving. Stay chic. Never compromise on humility. Be original. Love beauty. Scorn dishonesty. Celebrate individuality.
And, ALWAYS LOVE PRADA... No matter what may be going through our minds.
My my my... Miuccia.
Until next time. Until the next place. You never know what Simon will do, after all, it is I who says.
Until then, bisous.
Gougou, x.
So sang Tina Turner in Mad Max 3 in 1985. I remember watching the movie at the Greater Union Cinemas on Russell Street.
I had just turned thirteen. It was school holidays. My friend Wayne de Kretser had invited me to go and see the film with him.
There was I. Year eight at school. Movies with a friend and my sister. Deep down, the whole
post-apocalyptic theme took over and made me feel rather uncomfortable. After all, this was the mid 1980s, threat of Nuclear War was always at the foremost thought.
No matter where we turned. The East was unfavourable. The West was on heightened alert. Thatcherism and Reaganism were the order of the day.
Harriet Hubbard-Ayer still existed on the Australian market. Arden and Rubinstein still maintained their own standing, so to speak.
Anyway, back from my meandering direction (talk about a "tangent") - I was there watching a movie that made me feel uncomfortable.
Nearly three decades later, I was watching the Fall-Winter 2012 collection by PRADA.
I was struck by many thoughts. George -and-Mildred-meets-mad-Max-3- with a dash of 70s wallpaper thrown in.
Although the maquillage has been at best described as Avatar-inspired. It is a most powerful collection to review. To view. To enjoy.
The jury is still out with me. I watch it, and still feel scared. I also revel in the ability of this collection to restore my sense of youth. A sense of spirit and discovery that leaves me feeling younger and reborn. A collection that challenges my cerebral comfort zones.
Ultimately, I am totally honest in saying that I love the fact that again, as always. Miuccia takes the "ho-hum" and turns the pedestrian into the bastion of chic.
How does she do it, and still find time to slide from her office, into a world of homemade pasta? Oh, and yes... Whilst wearing a skirt.
How, indeed. I ask you.
Spare a thought for the others out there, in the land of Moda.
As I put finger to keyboard, the laboratory of the Paris Couture is taking place. Exploding into the visual world of the consumer. The sybarite. The connoisseur. The skeptic. The neophyte. The humble. The interested, and above all, the concerned.
Raf Simons' debut at the August Maison Dior will leave us all (hopefully) wanting more.
Can Jil Sander make things work at her eponymous label, where she has not been visible for many a season?
Only time will tell.
Until then.
Stay couture-loving. Stay chic. Never compromise on humility. Be original. Love beauty. Scorn dishonesty. Celebrate individuality.
And, ALWAYS LOVE PRADA... No matter what may be going through our minds.
My my my... Miuccia.
Until next time. Until the next place. You never know what Simon will do, after all, it is I who says.
Until then, bisous.
Gougou, x.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
What a difference a day makes...
A Melburnian winter. The most perfect of all seasons. Contrasts compete for our attention. Sunny, cloudless skies carelessly intermingle with freezing cold winds.
Rain falls of its own volition. Either masses of it, or discreet little showers.
Either way, one cannot escape the climatically-induced changes to dressing and living in this Magnificent "Ville".
Melbourne. Pleasure to all of the senses. A fashionista's dream. A cultural force.
A place where hopefully only very few (fashion-related) faux-pas are made.
By its very definition, this is a city that defines the style of the Antipodean outlook. Only Wellington can begin to compare. (That is a whole other story)
Sitting here on this rainy weekend, I cannot believe just how simple our pleasures are. Sitting at Tucci Brown in Brighton, and yesterday at Manakish in Elsternwick- I was stirred by the beauty of the breeze flying... My FENDI shawl billowing, and my fragrance permeating the air. Until I remembered, winter brings out the the ferals.
Like some tribe known to totally exist of a sense of primeval "style".
The ferals have a way of making themselves known wherever they may hail from. Bad hair, mid-matched foundation, and a genuine sense of judgement (you read that correctly) for anyone who embraces chic.
More to the point, maybe it is because I accessorise with high-end pieces from the <>. Either way, I couldn't care less for what those philistines have to say or think... After all, I don't wear a scrunchy in my hair.
Ultimately, Judgy-Wudgy was a bear. And this Judgy-Wudgy frankly, doesn't care!
Rain falls of its own volition. Either masses of it, or discreet little showers.
Either way, one cannot escape the climatically-induced changes to dressing and living in this Magnificent "Ville".
Melbourne. Pleasure to all of the senses. A fashionista's dream. A cultural force.
A place where hopefully only very few (fashion-related) faux-pas are made.
By its very definition, this is a city that defines the style of the Antipodean outlook. Only Wellington can begin to compare. (That is a whole other story)
Sitting here on this rainy weekend, I cannot believe just how simple our pleasures are. Sitting at Tucci Brown in Brighton, and yesterday at Manakish in Elsternwick- I was stirred by the beauty of the breeze flying... My FENDI shawl billowing, and my fragrance permeating the air. Until I remembered, winter brings out the the ferals.
Like some tribe known to totally exist of a sense of primeval "style".
The ferals have a way of making themselves known wherever they may hail from. Bad hair, mid-matched foundation, and a genuine sense of judgement (you read that correctly) for anyone who embraces chic.
More to the point, maybe it is because I accessorise with high-end pieces from the <
Ultimately, Judgy-Wudgy was a bear. And this Judgy-Wudgy frankly, doesn't care!
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