hilkat

I have to admit, I do get excited when I discover a new designer (part of the reason I love Graduate Fashion week so much, how gutted am I that I wasn’t quicker off the mark with the ASOS Ltd 100?) and thanks to The Fashion Spot I seem to have stumbled across a winner.

Thuy Diep, who has worked with Zac Posen and Carolina Herrera, has produced a rather glorious collection for Spring 2008, which includes Phillip Lim style tailoring and beautiful neutral pieces with the odd patterned or brocaded garment thrown in for good measure. She manages to cleverly combine femininity with androgeny, producing a collection that is exquisitely detailed yet still wonderfully classical.

Diep is Vietnemese-American and was born in Phan Thiet to parents who worked as tailors - fashion was clearly in her blood from birth, and she went on to study at Brown University. I for one am ecstatic that she did, as her pieces have now been snapped up by a number of buyers….

In short, I want one of everything. Thanks.

The gentlemen who brought us beds-as-dresses chic have returned with a characteristically surreal exhibition featuring their greatest hits displayed in miniature.
A history of the work of Viktor and Rolf is on show now at the Barbican throughout the summer, displayed on dolls merely two feet high - who also happen to have the faces of the models who originally wore the pieces.
It’s unsurprising that the duo chose to exhibit in this way - their unique take on fashion includes the 1998-99 offering Atomic Bomb and that of 2000-01, Bells, both haute couture collections which for the former featured necklines styled in the manner of mushroom clouds, and for the latter, dresses embroidered with hundreds of brass bells. These can be seen in their reduced scale format, alongside the multi-collared suit adorned by muse Tilda Swinton at the 2003 Baftas.

The opening night, hosted by Elle magazine, was awash with celebrities from all walks of life, from Alexa Chung who cited them as “fucking amazing” to Mischa Barton who adores their eccentricity. Fellow designer Roland Mouret said they were “fantastic”. I have to say I’m in strong agreement with the famous faces, I’ve always been a fan of Viktor and Rolf (not so much the price tags though!) and have watched eagerly for their latest collections. What I really love about their work is that you are guaranteed entertainment with your fashion fix - nothing is straightforward. The pair don’t just strap a model into a pair of trousers and send her down the catwalk - they design things with meaning, garments that require a bit of effort to work out what exactly they are trying to say. They use fashion as a form of communication, which is evident in the Autumn/Winter 2008-9 collection - jackets and tops embellished with the word “No” in various formats and a t-shirt with “Dream On” splashed across the chest, made to show how dissatisfied the duo are with the speed at which fashion moves. One might think they are “gimmicky” but push aside the wacky ideas and you will discover a world of beautiful tailoring and exquisite clothing - and who doesn’t like a bit of entertainment with their fashion?

The House of Viktor & Rolf runs at the Barbican until 21st September 2008.

I’m a big hoarder. I keep everything, so it was no surprise to find that when I logged into my photobucket account I had a whopping thirty five pages of photos.

Amongst them were several bad haircuts, some really quite atrocious outfits, a few ex boyfriends and these:

I used to work as a merchandiser for Guess and these were the results of a few of my days of labour - that brand really did love their pink.

Well, I’ve had a most productive day today, stumbling across some brilliant street style sites, fashion blogs and general all round fashion related edens.

I’m feeling particularly inspired, and have been growing rather concerned that my shoes are feeling a little neglected since I have temporarily abandoned them (high heels and pregnancy apparently don’t mix…) - so I have left you a little picture to enjoy.

I spent most of today lounging around trawling the internet for fashion and interiors related sites, and got very excited at this:

www.ilikemystyle.net

To my sheer delight I had stumbled across what was basically a social networking site similar to myspace or facebook, except ONLY about fashion and clothes. You know by now that I love nothing more than nosing through peoples wardrobes and seeing what goodies they have tucked away, and with this site you can do just that from the comfort of your own sofa! I obviously signed up, so go and investigate my proudly displayed wares at http://ilikemystyle.net/user/hilkat1983.

Alexa is the most recent convert, Sienna has always done it and Kate set the bar when she started doing it years ago. No, I’m not talking about going out with bad indie boys, I mean sporting unkempt, unbrushed and quite frankly, shambolic, hair.

The trend of going out without even so much as looking at yourself in the mirror seems to have snowballed lately, and now everyone seems keen to appear in public looking like they just rolled out of the best party they’ve ever been to in their lives (I suppose a few actually have….but thats another article).

I, on the other hand, am never more at home than when I have a pair of straighteners in my hand, and if I’m honest nothing terrifies me more than going out with less than pristine hair. I rejoiced when GHD’s were invented (previous disasters included sellotaping my fringe to my forehead to get it to stay straight, and also a hairy - haha - encounter with an iron….) and vowed never to be seen in public with bad hair again. But this trend for messy hair has got me unnerved - what’s it all about? Does messy hair bring you some sort of enlightenment? Is that how the Chungster et al are nabbing these hot yet scruffy men? If you abandon brushing your hair are you therefore abandoning restraints and setting yourself free?

I have decided I want to know the secrets, and am therefore abandoning my twenty minute hair routine. I am joining….. The Great Unwashed!

Day One
Being pregnant, I have decided that if this backfires totally, I can just blame it on the hormones. And if everything works out fine then I can claim that even when expecting, I was still fashion conscious and did not turn into a lobotomised woman who talks about nothing but nappies and nipples. I see this as a win-win situation for me. Buoyed by my new found enthusiasm for the project, I decide that shopping with the mother is the perfect way to start the proceedings - where better to try my new ‘do than surrounded by other style mavens?

After scrutinising pictures of my new idols, I notice that while Sienna looks dishevelled, she isn’t totally working the hobo look. I decide to go for tustled rather than tramp, and reach for my straighteners - just to tidy things up a little. The outcome is not too bad, in fact I feel rather pleased with the result - and what’s even better is that it took half the time.

I spend the day surreptitiously glancing in shop windows as I walk past to check the status of my new look, and even find myself comparing hair with other girls; I spot a few ‘too bouncy’, several ‘too done’ and even one ‘too clean’. I feel rather smug, and pity those who are chained to their straighteners, particularly the blonde girl on the bus who has attempted some sort of ‘fake bed head’. Pffft, I think, cheat. I bet she uses TiGi.

Day Two
Things have gone limp overnight. After such a positive start to the week, I now look like I’ve done a double shift in McDonalds. Typical really, since today is the day I am meeting my fashion graduate friend for lunch. I greet her sheepishly - will she notice my hair looks….different? After about an hour I have counted at least five surreptitious glances at my birds nest hair, and feel the need to explain myself. She sort of laughs half heartedly, but I get the distinct impression she doesn’t understand. Over lunch I gaze at her clean, freshly washed, smooth hair jealously and think wistfully of my straighteners, who by now must be feeling abandoned and lonely.

Once home I peer into the mirror and try to work out why I dont look like Sienna Miller yet. Surprisingly, I do not find the answers lodged in my tangles. Sigh.

Day Three
A quick read on the internet reveals that this messy hair business may not be a case of simply avoiding a hairbrush and hoping for the best. Apparently Alexa was quoted as saying it took quite a bit of effort to master. ‘Aha!’ I think triumphantly, ‘to the bathroom!’ I decide that after washing I will leave nature to run its course, picturing glorious flicks and waves where my limp locks once were.

Two hours later I am the proud owner of one spiral perm. Acceptable in the 80’s? Maybe so, but it’s far from acceptable now. Mission aborted. I cheerfully conclude while reaching for my GHDs that the only thing you need when working messy hair is NOT a nonchalent attitude, but a bloody good stylist.

My favourite time of year is when the seasons begin to change and you just know it’s time to start thinking about changing your wardrobe again. After feasting upon Fashion Week, it’s finally here, it’s…. time to start buying.

With that in mind, here is my wish list of clothes, accessories and all round goodies for this summer. Now where’s that credit card….?

While researching my previous article on gladiator sandals, I stumbled across a vast number of amazingly beautiful shoes, like these leather shoe boots from Chloe (£316). I love shoes which look like pieces of artwork, and can be displayed nicely, so these fit the bill perfectly.

I’ve got a real thing about draping at the moment, so it was love at first sight with this Miu Miu cotton tank dress (£205). I’m trying to steer away from black for the summer as well, so the colour is spot on.

Everyone loves a bit of cheap fashion, and you can’t beat this black embroidered sundress from Peacocks (£12) for value!

Celebrate the arrival of summer with this colourful enamel bangle from Matthew Williamson (£155) in his traditional hippy style.

This season florals are big - literally. This skirt from Oasis (£50) ticks all the trend boxes with its glorious print of giant blooms.

Take a break from the gladiator trend and try these boot sandals from Topshop(£25) on for size.

As soon as I saw this chiffon tank top by Stella McCartney (£445) it went straight to the top of my wish list. I’m not sure what I fell in love with more - the cut or the colour.

Oversize clutches are still hot hot hot, and this one from Topshop(£30) is no different. Toughen up that delicate summer skirt with enamel detail and fire red leather.

The aztec inspired print on this camisole (£18) is bang on trend, and what’s better is that the kind people at Topshop have also made a maternity version for the likes of me. Pass my credit card….

I’ve never been one to brag (well, almost never) but I’m slightly ahead of the fash-pack.

The footwear of the season has just been named as the gladiator sandal, and I don’t mean to sound smug (OK, I do) but I already have three pairs which I bought literally years ago. OK, so maybe it’s more to do with the fact that I’m a hoarder and refuse to throw anything away than my talent as a style psychic, but either way I’ve come out on top.

Here’s my pick of the best versions around….

Green Gladiator Sandal, £25, Oasis

Pink, £10, Peacocks

Force Gladiator Boot Sandal, £40, Topshop

White Patent Fringed Flat Sandal, £340, Roberto Cavalli

Heeled Gladiator Sandal, £60, Oasis

Achilles Gladiator Sandal, £39, Urban Outfitters

Link Chain Sandal, £45, Topshop

Calf Leather Gladiator Sandal, £726 approx. Jean Paul Gaultier

Metallic Gladiator Sandal, £280, Alexander McQueen

As I sat watching the Glamour 100 Best Dressed List on fiver last week, apart from resisting the urge to gouge out my own eardrums so I didn’t have to listen to the ridiculous commentary anymore, I felt a connection with Reese Witherspoon. They asked her how she defined her style. She said:-

“Whatever’s clean and whatever fits, being a Mom”.

For the first weeks of my pregnancy, that was my mantra when choosing an outfit. “Clean-coversmystomach-doesn’tshowoffmyarse-clean-coversmystomach-doesn’tshowoffmyarse.” Soon after that, I dropped the “clean” and favoured pyjamas with yesterdays dinner down them. My life became an endless cycle of sleep-eat-moan-cry-put on hideous clothes-moan-eat-moan-cry-take off hideous clothes-eat-sleep. I refused to leave the house and resented having to go to work. Tantrums became the norm, and the other half - who used to look at me with adoration - now just looked at me with fear. I launched a sausage sandwich at the wall because he dared to put ketchup on it. I threw shoes across the room because none of my clothes fitted me anymore. I cried constantly because I was so tired. The early weeks were NOT fun for anyone concerned.

Then one day I woke up, and instead of running to the bathroom to cling to the edge of the sink and retch noisily, I leaned over, gave the other half a kiss, and said “lets go out for the day.” He looked at me warily and said, “what?” I laughed and jumped out of bed, feeling rather more like my old self, just a little fatter. And not fatter in a bad way - I was having a baby, I hadn’t eaten all the pies and just ‘got fat’. (OK, if you want to be technical, I HAD eaten rather a lot….) I felt good. I now believe that the reason women sleep so much for the first weeks of expectancy isn’t because they are building a baby and this is when all the important bits happen. Noooooo, that’s just what we’ve been led to think. It’s because our bodies are storing energy and preparing us for the next stage.

Shopping.

There are two main areas of shopping to do when you’re pregnant. Things for the baby, obviously. And things for you. The baby category is full of cute clothes and slightly alarming technical contraptions (have you ever seen a man try out a breast pump? Now that is entertainment) so we’ll skim over that one.

I soon discovered that my shopping needs extended far beyond the perameters of clothing. I started in Primark, grabbing greedily at things - dresses, tops, knitwear (long fine knit cardigans are both a top trend AND godsend when your backside is the size of a small country), shoes (”well my feet are all swollen so my old shoes don’t fit anymore. No, of COURSE you can wear six inch heels…”) and bags (”I have to have the right one or it throws my back out which is really bad now I’m pregnant”) - and then moved on through H&M, Topshop and Debenhams. Our last port of call was where I had my first encounter with maternity wear. See, to me, even the name is unattractive. “Maternity”. It conjours up images of sack-like dresses and milk stained shapeless t-shirts, paired with flat Clarks shoes and a “sensible” bag. The kind of thing that makes you look twice in the street, and not in a good way. There is nothing about these clothes that I like. Not a thing. For a start, all the trousers and jeans have this massive wide piece of elastic made to cover your bump. So your trousers actually finish just under your (newly sagging) boobs.Now, I can high-waist with the best of them, and will continue to do so after the birth of my son, but these garments are ridiculous. The tops are, at best, dull, and at worst, downright ugly. I gave them a fair go, I really did. I even tried on and bought a pair of black maternity work trousers. They are currently residing in the back of my cupboard, with the label still attached (right next to the four maternity bras I bought after being bullied into it by a pushy sales assistant in Marks & Spencers. Bugger the rules, I’m keeping my underwire).

Gwen Stefani did not do painful maternity wear. Neither did Angelina Jolie. And after trawling the internet, I found no evidence of Nicole Richie sporting trousers which promise to “grow with her”. She clearly never felt the urge to give up any of her style rules, and was instead snapped wearing a variety of empire-line dresses, high heels, leggings and trilbys. Not a stretchy waistband in sight.

I decided from that point on that I would never venture into that section of the shop again, which sadly leaves no option but to keep buying new clothes in bigger sizes to accommodate my expanding stomach. And now, every time I open Vogue, Elle, or even Heat, and see something I like, without looking up from the magazine I call out “my clothes are a little bit tight, can we pop into town at the weekend?” and before you know it, that new maxi dress is sitting at home in my cupboard, jostling for space with my gladiator sandals and oversize bag. Purely for practical reasons, obviously.

While pregnancy is a great excuse to continually go shopping for new clothes (”that? That hasn’t fitted properly for weeks. I’m so fat and hideous.” Cue tears), I recently discovered that this rule does extend to other areas of your life. Particularly when you are moving into a new flat.

The other half and I had to vacate our old apartment because there was a “no children” stipulation on the lease. When you take into account that half my shoes had to live stacked in the hallway on their own because the bedroom was so small, and that only one of us could stand in the kitchen at any one time, you understand why neither of us were terribly upset about leaving. We stayed with my parents for a bit while getting together the deposit on the new place, and are set to move in any day now (Mr Estate Agent, I have paid you £350 to write a one paragraph letter to my employer. This took you five days. I’m really not convinced your services are value for money. Oh, and GET A MOVE ON) which means….. decorating. In the last few months I have bought endless rounds of clothes, shoes, bags, fashion magazines at £4.00 a go (”just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I’ve had a labotomoy. Fashion is my only joy in life, you wouldn’t take that away from me would you?”), DVD’s (”well what else am I supposed to do? Go out to parties?”), and books (”don’t you want me to be able to teach our son things? Do you want me to be stupid?”), and now, I’m venturing into The World of Interiors.

I work for an architect during the day (unless you work for Vogue or another high end publication, fashion writing does NOT keep you in shoes and bags) so it has to be said, I am pretty much constantly surrounded by the design process, materials, paint charts and furniture catalogues. My friend is obsessed with kitchens and bathrooms, and despite spending months mocking her for being able to play spot the difference with two sinks that to us mere mortals look exactly the same, I am sort of coming round to her way of thinking. Obviously, since we’re renting we’re not going to pump a lot of capital into someone elses property, but I still have some pretty grand ideas.

I knew before we even found the flat what sort of bathroom I wanted. In a design magazine months ago I had seen pictures of “spa style” spaces, very pale green in colour complete with flowers and candles. I am a big bath girl, and am happiest when I’m soaking with a magazine, pint of wine and a Marlborough Light for company (although obviously at the moment it’s just me and the magazine), so having a relaxing bathroom is paramount. The kitchen would be easy, a mediterranean theme (”look!” the Other Half had exclaimed, “terracotta tea towels!” The one and only time he got excited about decorating”) which would follow through onto the balcony where my plant pots and little outdoor table and chairs would fight for space. The lounge has proved to be trickier. I started off thinking of an African theme, but when it became apparent that our flat was turning into some sort of world tour experience, I thought it might be a good idea to tone it down a little and keep it neutral (”noooooo,” cried the Other Half, “not another House of Beige. Don’t you remember our last flat?” It had been a New-Build-Dont-Paint-Anything situation. So… beige really). But how do you pick the perfect neutral? This used to mean white or magnolia, but now there are a thousand different colour neutrals. Soft Cinnebar or Nutmeg Cluster? Wild Mushroom or Mineral Haze? Soft Montelimar? Bleached Lichen? And even if you do decide to stick with white, which one do you pick? White Chiffon? White Cotton? White Mist? Nutmeg White? Vanilla White? And once you’ve navigated the minefield of paint colours, what look are you going for? Contemporary New York Apartment? French Vintage? My head hurts and I am starting to think there is simply too much choice.

I decided on an eastern theme for the bedroom, which basically means jade, purple, blue and pink (”PINK?!” shouted the Other Half indignantly. “Huff,” I said, “you’re such a design moron.” I explained that I meant dark pinks, more red in colour than the bubblegum jackets in Grease. Why would I want that colour? What did he think I was? Twelve?) and did a couple of mood boards. After weeks of collecting little knick-knacks (including a long, very drawn out mission to find the perfect Buddha to go in our room) I have turned my attention to the most important aspect. The wardrobe space.

When Carrie opened the doors to her closet (courtesy of Mr. Big) in the Sex and the City movie, my eyes lit up and I started tapping frantically on the Other Half’s leg, “if we went for a three bedroom place I could have a separate room for my clothes and shoes!” I hissed through the dark of the cinema. His response was, rather rudely I thought, “pipe down.” Even when I made the point that if we did that, all my stuff would be out of his way, he clearly wasn’t keen to fund my storage ideas to the point of his own financial ruin. So I seem to be stuck with a small amount of space and a large amount of…. everything. And absolutely no clue how to store it all. Research was clearly the way forward.

Brochures of bedroom furniture revealed a hundred different styles of drawer runners, but when I looked for the section entitled “How to Make Your Partner Understand the Importance of Shoe Storage”… there was nothing to be found. Nor was there anything on “How to Make Your Wardrobe Act Like the One out of Narnia So You Can Fit Everything In.” M.F.I and B.&.Q were clearly O.V.E.R.

I’ve always had an obsession with looking at the way other women store their clothes. Not just looking at the garments and accessories themselves, but also the way they are housed - my favourite section in Elle has always been Closet Confidential, where they take photographs of various women’s belongings. I’ve passed many a happy hour poring over glossy pictures of impossibly beautiful shoes in every shade of every colour, jostling for space with vintage scarves and fighting for attention with the most achingly fabulous dresses. ‘How do they store their jewellery and accessories,’ I ponder, “lucite boxes or vintage bowls? What about the sweaters? Folded on shelves or hung on padded hangers?” There are just so many things to take into consideration when organising fashion space. The other day, a google search for “fashion closets” turned up a forum thread on Australian Vogue.com about this exact subject, where readers wrote in detail how they store their clothes, and a few even added pictures. Some, like me, even add homeware accessories to the space, say candles or framed photos of fashion related subjects. A Fashion Altar. Now that is something worth worshipping at.

I decided to look at the closet Carrie had in her old apartment in the Sex and the City series, and although its still far bigger than anything I’m going to end up with this side of fashion fame and fortune (did you see that alliteration there?) it’s something I can take inspiration from. Everything is organised and has its place - places for shoes, places for scarves, places for expensive designer outfits…. OK, maybe I wont need as much space for that section of my wardrobe, but you get the idea. “I hav 30 pairs shoes evn aftr clear out. I need shoe rack,” I text the Other Half. “Shoes galore,” he replied. Clearly, he still wasn’t sold on the walk in wardrobe idea (unsurprising really, since this is a man owns just two pairs of shoes and wears t-shirts that say things like “My best friend ran off with my girlfriend…. I miss him”. I have a funny feeling that t-shirt will get lost in the move….). “Shelves,” I text, “has 2 b lots of shelving. Nd space.” He text back, “OK.” I pushed the boundaries with, “mite need extra rail 4 clothes. Got 2 much.” “Thats fine,” he said. So it seems with all these shelves and rails and shoe racks I am going to get my walk in wardrobe after all. It just happens that we have to sleep in it as well……