Last minute SubbaCouture inspiration

Pure Genius.

Archetypes vs. Stereotypes

Archetype - original model: something that serves as the model or pattern for other things of the same type


Stereotype - oversimplified conception: an oversimplified standardized image of a person or group


There's something about the tactile quality or paper and the sheeny gloss that makes looking at a picture in a magazine much more satisfying than staring at a screen.  I love Stern's Fotografie series, which focuses on a different photographer each issue, and is mercifully spare with words, because my grasp of German is pretty dismal.

The next issue, out on June 7th, focuses on Karl Lagerfeld and Claudia Schiffer's collaborations over the past 20 years and will include never seen before self portraits, polaroids and reminiscences that will probably have me breaking out my secondary school German-English dictionary and wondering what the hell der Dudelsack is.

There will be six different covers of Claudia, shot by Lagerfeld in a series of costumes (see them at the ASVOFF site here).  The price is pretty steep, but I'm looking forward to getting mine in the post.

But wait, what's this?



Is it just me or is controversy over blackface in fashion editorials the new, er, black?

Hmm, something's not quite right here but I can't put my finger on it...

Granted, someone probably thought that the only fitting way to accessorise classic 80's power shoulders was with an electrocuted expression and a convoluted Diana Ross tribute.

Maybe someone thought that this was delightfully satirical (though off the top of my head can't think of a satirical connection between blackface, 80's Chanel, Lagerfeld or Schiffer).

Maybe this is supposed to be incredibly post-modern and the intention is to somehow reappropriate blackface as a non-racist form of expression (though that's virtually impossible due to the deeply entrenched racist vein of blackface and no such declaration of reappropriation has been made).

The other covers that I've seen are broad archetypes; Claudia the businesswoman, Claudia the 18th century aristo, Claudia the Muscle Mary.  In this case Claudia is the person and the clothing is the archetypal template she fits into.  However, by disguising the things that signify Claudia Schiffer (like her blonde hair or the colour of her skin) she stops being a person in costume and starts to portray a stereotype.  Which isn't necessarily a good thing.

Photo - Stern Fotografie

How very Insightful

I'm not really a bikini person.  They're just not for me.  This bikini aversion isn't due to low self esteem or disgust at belly baring or the fact that Irish weather is generally so mild that a trip to the beach usually requires a wooly jumper and a thermos of piping hot soup after a brisk dip in the Atlantic.

My problem with the bikini is that I tend to fall out of them.  And I don't play volleyball.  I have to hold onto my sides every time I flip a page of a book while wearing a bikini just in case my strategically placed triangles of cloth held together with floss come loose.  I can't even think about any motion that involves even the slightest wobbling.

Being of the DD+ persuasion (not as much fun as you'd think), swimsuit options are very tight.  Wear a bikini, and risk exposure.  Wear a DD bikini top, and look like you decided to go for a swim in a Marks and Sparks bra.  Most one pieces are either a) utilitarian Speedo-type things, b) high-cut on the hips a la Baywatch circa 1996, c) have those cut outs at the side and front, which make for interesting tribal print tan lines or d) self-consciously retro (which would be my second choice).

Blissfully bereft of all these cliches, I give you the Insight swimwear collection.  I might actually get to venture into the sea this year.






Photos - Insight at ASOS

I Heart De Geuzen

There's not really much that I can say about De Geuzen, because when I try to explain it I end up going in circles and confusing myself  The website itself is a bit like peeling an onion, but with much less crying. Every time I click into a section, there's something within it to explore, then another thing, then another thing...  But I can say this much:

 - They are three women working together on a project basis and can be found at www.geuzen.org .
 - The Geuzen website is a smorgasbord of interesting, interactive bits and bobs that engage and encourage people to think about feminism, fashion, art and communication.
 - My favourite part of the website is the DIY section, where you can find instructions for such useful things as popcorn cones to your own temporary library.
 - My favourite item in the DIY section (see why I keep getting so confused?) is the paper dress.  This isn't your average paper dress though (if there is such a thing as an average paper dress).  This is part of the De Geuzen Uniform Series.  According to De Geuzen;

"The Uniform Series is a developing line of identity apparel uniquely tailored for De Geuzen. Negotiating the border between guise and disguise the garments suit a plethora of identities and a multitude of occasions. Seen as a whole, the outfits constitute a set of Geuzen vows.

Made in collaboration with fashion designer Margreeth Olsthoorn, this uniform is constructed from a paper pattern. Accompanied by step by step sewing instructions, the pattern requires a knowledge of subtle engineering and basic handy craft. The uniforms come in three different styles (Model Femke, Model Renée, and Model Riek) and promote a 'do-it-yourself' work ethic.

Crisp and tailored, all three garments combine amazon armor aesthetics with origami know-how."

This is the third effort in their Uniform Series.  Keep it white and it's an austere, clean uniform.  Scribble over it with felt-tips however, and it's a different proposition - an ability to subvert a uniform into a totally different thing altogether.

Maybe when I have the inclination and resources to do this DIY* I'll take my cue from last year's Grayson Perry collaboration with Liberty on their series of art fabrics. Maybe spice up a floral print with some dolls, gravestones machine guns, and damned-soul-ish face-type scribblings.

Grayson Perry for Liberty - images from Clothkits 

*Which is never, because I'm one of those people who makes all sorts of grand crafting plans but never ever gets around to sticking Tab A to Fold B.  It's a curse.

Fallen Princesses - Strictly Irrelevant Saturday

I tend not to write on weekends.  Firstly, er,  it's the weekend and secondly, I feel like I'm the only person who stays in on a Saturday night and trawls through blogs while the boyfriend plays XBox (we are a very cosmopolitan and exciting couple).  Thirdly, I tend to get a bit frazzled looking at style-related news from Monday to Friday so by the time Saturday rolls around I'm in need of a fairly serious reboot.  Reboots are good.  Reboots are essential to a person's wellbeing.

So, either I have itchy typing fingers or the XBox is really getting to me but I am now blogging on a weekend.  Since a weekend is a break from the norm I won't be talking about style but things I like, things that make me go 'hmm' and probably a few cocktail recipes (fun fact about me #641 I'm a competent mixologist and have been tending bar since it was illegal for me to do so). 

Weekends will be strictly irrelevant - after all, everyone needs a break from the norm.

The picture below popped up in my feeds and I think any woman with a vested interest in feminism that clashes with a nostalgic love for Disney films will find this relevant. And a bit scary. Just what were these films supposed to teach us?

Image from Boing Boing

This reminds me a little of Dina Goldstein's somewhat disturbing series 'Fallen Princesses', which plonks the Disney Princesses straight in the real world and royally screws with any little girl's view that there might be a happily ever after.

Photos - Dina Goldstein

The best word in the world

Mamihlapinatapai - a look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start.

For example, there is a definite mamihlapinatapai between myself and this €3,600 Moschino jacket.  I get the feeling it's only a matter of time before someone DIYs one of these bad boys.

L-R Photo by Tom Munro for Elle, Jacket and catwalk pic @ Net A Porter 

Mean Testing

I marvel at government means testing, I really do. Granted, vital statistics such as marital status, number of dependents and amount of debt are taken into account, as they should be. The means test also takes into account all the material gains accrued and emotional ties bonded in your lifetime. It is simultaneously a snapshot of your childhood, your education and your physical wellbeing. It is a governmental biography written in Big Brother code.

It is also, if this is humanly possible, a more demoralising version of a Cosmopolitan quiz, except instead of jaunty titles like 'What's your boudoir IQ?' or 'How dissatisfying is your career right now?' the quiz is 'Just how much are you worth anyway? Not much I bet - you are on the dole, after all, you big loser.'

My score on the multiple choice quiz that is means testing is woefully low. I have no dependents and my only housemate is a Polish man whose name I can barely pronounce. I own no art, nor did I make any savvy investments in the iPad or Chinese based expansion into Africa before the economic slump. Thankfully there is a cash bonus and it is directly proportionate to how badly you do on the test, and thus how depressing your life is on paper - see it as a monetary pat on the back and a reassuring "You'll do better next time, now go get 'em Champ! Maybe next time you'll think about buying some bonds, eh?"

Our lives can easily look insignificant when squeezed rigidly into boxes on a few sheets of paper. Before we get bogged down in the mire of how much we lost or never even had to lose, it is worth remembering that the means test is only an indicator of the present and not of the future. No-one knows what lurks around the corner, at any age. Nelson Mandela was arrested for treason and designated a terrorist in 1956, when he was thirty two. In 1994 he became the president of South Africa and an international symbol of peaceful racial unification. What a difference a few years (and a long stint on Robben Island) makes.

We won't all be lucky enough to become spiritual figureheads, but the message to my fellow social welfare recipients is clear. Don't despair, keep your chin up. There'll always be a tomorrow, and tomorrow is an equal opportunities employer.

Inspiration 1 - Club Kids

With yesterday's post still firmly stuck in my mind, I can't help but be reminded of the Club Kids.

My obsession started with renting out Party Monster with my sisters.  We watched it once.  Then I watched it again.  And again.  Anyone acquainted with their brief moment at the forefront of cutting edge cool will know the seedy story that overshadows their outfits (in short, movement leader Michael Alig, along with drug dealer Robert 'Freeze' Riggs, killed another drug dealer, Angel Melendez and disposed of his body in an incredibly brutal fashion).  Which makes their appearance on the Joan Rivers Show more than a little bittersweet since the phrase "you're not hurting anyone" pops up all over the place.



Before the clubs became saturated with drugs, however, the Club Kid ethos was a series of Situationist pranks (scatology, mutilation and lactation were common themes for club nights and outfits) and guerrila parties, which took place in McDonalds and Macys departments stores, amongst other places.  To tap into the Club Kid psyche, just listen to your inner freak.  And maybe have a look at these here pictures.

EDIT - Here's a few more pictures of Club Kid trading cards, used as publicity tools for Disco 2000 club nights.

All photos from Collection of All That is Good

SubbaCouture - will you be there?

Spawned from the mind of Ms Blau von T of Blaubushka, SubbaCouture will be the first Freakscene club night to celebrate street style and subculture (so much so that I thought it was called 'SubbaCULTure'...  derp).  Here's the blurb.

"Every movement has had its own fashion associated with it; burlesque, MOD, punk, rave, grunge and the theatrical harajuku. Today we can see how all these previous identities are becoming more and more infused in the emergence of a modern street style. Inspired by this, Blaubushka hopes to throw the doors open to all the fashion lovers; be your fashion beginner, intermediate or advanced this is your chance to earn your stripes and join a new Cork fashion army.

Any look that's inspired you or any outfit that you thought Cork wasn't ready for, the time is NOW!"

Freakscene is Ireland's longest running club night with DJs over two floors and major drink deals.  I've been going there every so often for more years than I would like to admit and, in the interests of disclosure, actually used to work in the club.

It's nothing if not all inclusive so don't worry if mod or burlesque or harajuku isn't your cup of tea.   I would imagine that what's important is originality and balls-out enthusiasm so, if you want to dress like Lady Gaga or Adam Ant - 'any look that inspires you'.  If anything this event is about self expression and outrageousness in the midst of one of the most non-judgemental nightclub crowds I've ever experienced.

Ritualism

So last month, two things happened. Someone in my family died and I bought a book. These two things might not seem connected now, but it will make sense soon, I promise.

The book was 'Isms... Understanding Fashion ' by Mairi MacKenzie. It's a pocket-sized book with two-page spreads explaining every major fashion wave from the sixteenth century to present day. From Baroque to blogging, it's all there in concise, clipped paragraphs. Precursors, related trends, even lists of where you can see costume archives of a particular trend are organised according to country at the end of every list.

But I'm jumping ahead. A month ago my grandmother passed and I found myself in my hometown with a duffel bag full of glittery dresses, army boots and coloured tights that I must have packed in a peyote trance. The crumpled clothes in the bag look like something a Care Bear would puke up after overindulging in too much sunshine and rainbows.   I went into town to try to look for something appropriate. I picked the first black dress I saw and went home. I didn't want to make a statement, I didn't  want anyone to admire my taste, I didn't want anyone to look at me.

So, for the last month or so I haven't really cared about anything fashion-y. Last week I bought a dress for my sister's 21st birthday party to find that I was no longer a small size 10 (6 to you US readers) and that I couldn't fit into my pre-picked party dress. That was what snapped me out of it. Until then I was wandering around feeling a bit sad, looking very sloppy and totally unsure of what to do.

There are dress guides for weddings, for dates, for job interviews. But no-one seems to set out a dress code for funerals anymore. It would be so much easier if all the hard stuff was done for us. All the worrying about whether you look respectful and proper (probably the only occasion that worries me in that way).  Mourning is so hard that worrying over a trivial thing like what to wear while doing so makes it all the harder. And if only there was a way of letting people know before they bound up to you in the street and breeze 'How are you, any news?', with the inevitable awkward, 'Well, my Nan died there last week'. And then the terrible silence...

L-R Plate of a child's mourning dress from an Ackermann's catalogue c. 1809,  Middle class family in mourning dress, 1913 (analysis here ), Queen Mary in Mourning Dress, 1913.  Jordan take note - homegirl liked her bling.

This is where I tie in with 'Isms..'. One of the fashion movements the book covers is called Ritualism - the strictly regimented system of mourning during the Victorian era. Women had to jump through a seemingly never-ending set of hoops to show that they were mourning properly and not to do so was a source of public shame. Books and women's magazines pored through the subject much in the manner of Trinny and Susannah, with less emphasis on Spanx and droopy boobs. One of the American books I found, The Art of Dressing Well (1870) is viewable in full online and is full of bon mots concerning heavy mourning, half mourning and non-fat, sorry, 'light' mourning.

Think of it like a school uniform - universally hated, but still useful in deflecting the dilemma of what to wear in what could be an emotionally fraught situation.  I don't think that we should go back to the days of mourning for women at the threat of losing their social respectability by any means (because that means so much in this day and age...).

I suppose it would just be nice to not have to tell people that you're mourning, not to feel like a shallow idiot when you can't decide what to wear, to have something to make you look ok and like you're holding it together for the first couple of weeks when all you really want to do is wear pajamas all day and watch The Jeremy Kyle Show.