The New Romantics: S/S 2011

Britain may have a face like a smacked arse right now but whilst Spring does it’s very best to emerge from behind the sleet-grey backdrop of winter, romance is once again rearing it’s whimsical head and stretching out its languorous lace-clad limbs on the high street.

Of course it’s not all lace, think back to s/s 2010’s fetish for layering sheers and chiffon and add a dash of theatrical decadence. That’s the new romantic.

Now, time for your mandatory shot of runway inspiration…

Think déshabille chic and work sheers in dramatic layers for 20’s-nouveau-meets-art-house appeal a la John Galliano’s ready-to-wear collection based on the life and nefarious pursuits of Maria Lani – a Polish émigré who conned Paris’ artistic elite during the late 1920’s (read more about her here)

John Galliano S/S 2011 RTW

For something altogether more virginal why not reference Dolce & Gabbana’s Spring collection and work the table-cloth aesthetic (and no…I’m not joking…and it’s FABULOUS) – delicate tatting, sheer whites, crochet and beautifully executed broderie anglaise.

Okay, so virginal in a wild, animalistic, Wuthering Heights’ Cathy kind of way.

Dolce & Gabbana S/S 2011

Or, given the season – Golden Globes, Oscars…anyone? – why not look to Donna Karan’s breath-taking red-carpet chic…beaded applique, silk, tulle and (of course) sheers…*sigh*

Donna Karan S/S 2011

Of course if all that soft-focus, gentle femininity is too much for you, you can always rock it up with black leather (I recommend the Burberry cropped biker). Who said romance had to be good?

Flying High: Burberry Prorsum & THAT Aviator Jacket

Ah, the Burberry Aviator. I have been avoiding this topic ever since it seared its mannishly sexy shearling and leather and buckle bedecked awesomeness onto my beleaguered eyeballs way back in January.

Why?! I hear you not so much gasp as mutter in a slightly tuttish and reproachful kind of way. (After all, is it not my job, my stated purpose, my purported raison d’être to provide up-to-the-minute commentary on the latest and greatest, the statement and the key, the must-haves and the – seriously? WTF. Don’t-make-me-come-down-there – must-nots of fashion, so help me God?!)

Well. Before you hot-foot it to the fashion blog next door, hear me out. A lack of foresight was most definitely not behind this seemingly insane omission – who in their right mind, or even their totally and utterly wrong mind, could have doubted the trend powerhouse that the Burberry Aviator would become?! (Even my Dad clocked this one and he styles himself in heady mix of late 70’s golfing jumpers, biker leathers and retro punk tees; a kind of Curtis Strange does swapsies in a darkened room with Johnny Rotten). No. My reasoning was simple…

a) The world, his aunt and his anally retentive parrot Phyllis were all on the Aviator bandwagon: homages to the flying jacket were loop-the-looping their way across the blogosphere, twitosphere and general internet-o-sphere like a swarm of starved locusts ready to homogenise the people of the globe into one giant Aviator-wearing fashion-army squadron.
Why add my barely audible squeak to the cacophony of the fashionable – and not quite so fashionable – set?…It is after all possible to be too trendy and I’m not really a massive fan of Goliath-sized bandwagons (in case you hadn’t noticed).

But it was b) that really got me. The lust factor. Of course I didn’t want to write about it…the level of torture is practically mind-blowing…like forcing a nil-by-mouth patient – or someone similarly hungry – to write the next M&S commercial surrounded by glossy pictures of exotically pre-modified potatoes and mouth-watering meats post-modified to Elysian heights. In a word: harsh.

The fact of the matter is I am totally, utterly, unequivocally, obsessively and (ever so slightly) psychotically in love with this coat. I don’t just love this coat, I f*%#ing love this coat. I would probably sell my own grandmother for one, I’d live off nothing but Tesco value bran flakes for eternity x pi + 1 just to have one in my possession, never mind to wear. I mean, Look. At. It. It’s a stylists wet dream, an item which, quite literally, goes with ANYTHING: even a fluro tri-colour shell-suit circa ‘82 would have a certain charm when paired with this baby…(Think about it…scary huh!?!?)

What more can I say? Christopher Bailey: my hat is off. May I please board the bandwagon?

Images courtesy of & Homotography.

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