The New Woman: A/W 2010

Finally (rambling apology aside) it’s here: my first post after an excessively long hiatus of quite literally days. So, in keeping with my fresh life, fresh job, fresh start mentality, it’s time for a fresh season (I know, it seems a tad premature to start thinking about a/w 2010/11 but, as we well know, time and fashion wait for no man – or woman – so we‘d best get on with it).

Louis Vuitton a/w 2010 RTW
Like s/s,  a/w looks set to offer an absolutely mammoth miscellany of trend and style options (excellent news for the easily bored) from purist minimalism to gothic Victoriana and androgynous tailoring. But, start somewhere we must and today that somewhere is the understated classic sophistication of the 50’s sex kitten: think Mad Men’s Betty Draper and shelve the overt sexuality of seasons past. Balmania may not be dead but it certainly is not demure and to rock this look you are going to need to unleash your inner Ingénue – or, at the very least, cage your inner Vamp.

Louis Vuitton a/w 2010 RTW

This look is all about grown-up femininity and that mystical concept of ‘lady-likeness’ often touted by well-meaning Grandmothers amidst bouts of disapproving tut-tutting. But that’s not to say go all out and ‘prude’ yourself! Think subtle sexiness meets wide-eyed naivety. In a word: coy.

Louis Vuitton a/w 2010

Prada a/w 2010 RTW

Drop your hem-line, ditch your sky-scraper heels in favour of flats, kittens and baby stilettos and rework a little of last season’s Lolita-look with bow detailing – just keep it sharp and sleek: Fashion’s nostalgia for the girlish has given way to picture perfect pin-up credentials. The cinched waist and the heaving bosom – as seen at Louis Vuitton, Prada and Loewe – provide the key silhouette for the season (raise a cheer all ye of gloriously curvaceous proportions – your time is now!)

Dolce & Gabana a/w 2010 RTW

Prada a/w 2010 RTW

Loewe a/w 2010 RTW

Images courtesy of and

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Bum Bags: Love or Loathe?

Something about as pleasant as a good-morning ‘present’ from a new puppy found its way into my inbox this morning…and subsequently into my war-path. That thing was in fact an attempt (I should say a misguided attempt) to sell me a bumbag. A Louis Vuitton bumbag…but a bumbag no less.

Louis Vuitton Monogram Bum Bag

Now, as far as the-most-heinous-items-ever-conceived-by-man go bumbags have got to be up there in the top five, maybe even close to wrestling the top spot from the umbrage-provoking smegmatic smear on the fashion world that is the croc.

Louis Vuitton s/s 2010

There’s just something so detestable about them…in fact, several somethings. For starters they have the seemingly miraculous ability to make anyone look like a) a complete tit, and b) as if they are lugging around the garish neon remains of a still-born conjoined twin.

Sweaty Betty Run Bum Bag

And then, perhaps most disconcertingly, there’s the ‘let me fiddle with my nether-regions’ rummaging which the bumbag necessitates whenever an item is required (I have on one oh so memorable occasion been subjected to a crotch-eye-view of this retrieval technique whilst on the tube – never before have I been privy to such startling evidence of the vital need for repressed memories in contemporary society).

Marc by Marc Jacobs

In my humble, and slightly brutal opinion, they should be consigned to the shady realm of early 90’s Lycra-clad teeny-boppers and men who wear the sock-sandal-shorts combo without irony. Or the bin. Preferably the bin.

Ashish s/s 2010

The latent hatred may (and I’m being tentative here) have something to do with this…

For those of you seeking a more bumbag friendly trend review, head to styleclone, where you will learn that the bum bag is not just for casual wear (oh, no) “there are several options available to buy that would brighten up any evening outfit and greatly reduce the number of times you drop your money and phone all over the dance floor.”

I cannot wait to see someone ‘rocking’ a bumbag at a club – I’m already practising some pithy little put-downs…watch this space…

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To Clog or Not to Clog…

I try, in all things, to keep an open mind but I seem to have hit a bit of a trend-wall with clogs. The thing is my memory is already tarnished with images of cheap, tacky 90’s clogs and haunted by the nerve grating clack that these horrors seem to make on every surface known to man. This is definitely not a shoe for sneaking…nor for being even moderately discrete, in fact I would go so far as to say they are the unrivalled fog-horn of footwear. A clumsy, oafish folly of a shoe which either make you look like you have some kind of club-foot ‘thing’ going on or as if God had, in some kind of feverish delirium, commissioned Penny Crayon to pop-by and doodle you a pair (of feet that is).

Clacking, and general aesthetic distaste aside, there is another shadow looming over clog-dom, spat forth from the very bowels of hell: presumably because even the most wretched, most cretinous most loathsome residents could not abide their very presence. I am speaking – of course – of the clog’s mutant cousin…the croc. A shoe so vile that I would rather eat my own face than wear one.

In a nutshell – you say ‘Clog’ and I scream: Get thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offence unto me!!

Imagine then my agonised dismay upon seeing the return of clogs…to the runway…at Chanel no less. [Why Karl, Why?!]

But, like I said, open mind: even in the face of such ungainly monstrosity, I can still muster a few shreds of journalistic integrity  (plus I did foist brogues on you yesterday). So, it is for that reason and that reason alone that I have spent a significant portion of my day trying to coax out my inner clog-wearer…

To Chanel then and Karl Lagerfeld’s pastoral vision where goat-herder-chic met Marie Antoinette’s faux-farm fantasy and a good roll in the hay was had by all. I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised: the clogs were, well, less clog-ish. More mule-meets-clog, less clack-engendering hunk of timber: a neo-clog if you will. Also, the use (in some cases at least) of buff and neutral tones worked well to mask – if not completely disguise – the overall orthopaedic-vibe in a fog of utter blandness.

The high-heel seen on most of the clogs this season was a definite step in the right direction: the tapered heel works really hard to try to cancel out the frump-factor. Sadly, most designers seemed to be favouring the chunky block-heel, and those that weren’t (Vuitton I’m looking at you) headed even further into a mind-bogglingly grotesque nightmare with such Frankenstein creations as the loafer-clog (below right)

And in case you were wondering – yes – that ‘shoe’ does indeed have it’s very own rat-tail-pony.

Even Miu Miu can’t save this trend for me…

Jimmy Choo: Urban Clog Sandals

Pair the heel with the peep-toe and they actually start to resemble shoes…shoes that I might give a cursory glance…

Prada: Studded Plexi Clogs

…the thing is, at this point can they really still be called clogs?

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