The Style Critic

If there’s one thing you can bank on in retail when times get tough, it’s the high-end boutiques using the word ‘investment’ a lot. Owners and buyers will take a uniform stand against ‘fast’ fashion and maintain a party line that goes something like this: “yes our customers are affected by the credit crisis and as such they will be looking to spend selectively on investment pieces.” (ie. not stuff you can actually wear everyday guilt-free but something for a special occasion that never seems quite special enough to risk ruining it for.)

In Vogue this month, buyers from some of the top boutiques nationwide maintain that their client-base will still be spending, but gone are the impulse buys and disposable trends. Still, when the average customer spend in designer boutique Cricket in Liverpool is £1500, there can’t be much change from your Lanvin for a sprint around Topshop. And before you say it’s a drop in the ocean when Wayne’s on a squillion an hour…it’s the WAGs…it’s Colleen’s favourite shop, this is average customer, not average footballer’s wife. 

All of which has me thinking that if your average fashionista is now under pressure to triple her budget for a fraction of the fabric, might it not be wise to start seeing clothes like antiques? Clothes that are collectible, that increase in value, that have inherent desirability beyond what is merely fashionable.  

If you are that woman, the one that’s single-handedly keeping those boutiques solvent, the one that spends more than the average monthly British salary on a single shop  - a) can I have your cast-offs, and b) consider the following website. 

http://www.vintageacademe.com/

The site sells an exclusive collection of antique, vintage and haute couture, from Edwardian silk capes to the finest Courreges and Balenciaga. There’s no celebrity wearing this or magazine touting that; no one to tell you whether tassles will be out by summer or winter, although you can call or email Belinda (one of the three fashion gurus that own the site) if you want to learn more about a particular piece.

If you’re serious about investment dressing, consider it your duty to check out these precious clothes. In years to come they’ll be the equivalent of the solid gold in your jewellery box.

 www.mydailystyle.es

I don’t have any experience with pregnancy dressing, but when I do and the issue becomes a fashion dilemma, I will remember these pictures on mydailystyle.es.  Surely this is the most stylish mother-to-be in Barcelona? I couldn’t find a lot of info on this “señora en la última moda”  who goes under the name of M*, but her style does the talking.

There is something goddess-like about a pregnant woman at the peak of her womanliness, and this blog re-assured me that it isn’t all about hormone hell and fat days. Granted, M* has been blessed with a weight distribution which doesn’t hamper her knack with high-shine leggings or over-the-knee boots (see her blog for more pics), but I’m sure many pregnant women – however neat their bump – would rather not fashion it up when they feel as big as a house.

Some tips. 1. Layers, layers, layers. Play with proportions by dressing your bump in slouchy vests under soft rollneck, cardis and chunky cable knits as thick as a coat. You’ll be warm AND swaddled in textile love. 2. Long n’ luscious. Forget the midriff, this is about drapery, and for that you’ll need length. Go for large or x-large to reach your hips. 3. Show your legs. Even if you feel like an egg on stilts, chances are your legs are looking hot. Follow M* and be loyal to denim and leggings – just balance out with clever footwear. 

If in doubt, just add Balenciaga. That bag is still going strong.

Dear M*

Desearle un embarazo maravilloso.

Mejores deseos

The Style Critic X

www.mydailystyle.es

www.mydailystyle.es

The downside of recession is that my internet auction bargains are no longer, well, bargains. My fashion competitors have deserted the sales in favour of the Big Sale In The Sky, or eBay as I like to call it. The auctions are oversubscribed with women just like me, stumbling over their mouses for a bit of on-line action. And this is a literal booty call, I might add, because yesterday I lost out on a pair of vintage lace up boots which went for £100! OK so there might be a general consensus that masculine footwear is a good, solid Spring look – especially paired with daintier garments. But to the untrained eye these are fairly ordinary scuffed-up old kickabouts, are they not?

Not. To the fashionista they’re like B-I-N-G-O that’s exactly what I’m looking for. The right side of old (ie. saving you the bother of breaking them in) and the right side of the door as temperatures fall to below freezing (I used to find vintage missions fun – who knows what you’ll find – but it’s too cold to traipse around on the wing of desire, I need pictoral evidence to seduce me these days.)

Then again, so it seems does everybody else.

Other superhero pickings include this Batman skirt by Luella. Currently at £82 with 3hrs to go…

Another one of my sorry losses – how cute is this Warehouse leopard print silk dress? VERY by all accounts. It went for £62 + £4.50 p&p. Surely not far off retail price?

Or how about this image of perfection, a biker jacket by Balenciaga that retails for over a £1000. Dream on as it’s gone – for a comparatively reasonable £430 + £15 p&p

Or a well-preserved 1920s silk robe for £46.

Or a rare sighting of Guerlain’s Spiriteuse Double Vanille.

So many pre-Christmas bargains, so little desire to shop for anyone but oneself. Is it just me or has this Christmas been exceptionally testing in the generosity department? Luckily there’s no such floor in Selfridges, so let’s assume that Barbara Kruger’s “I shop therefore I am” , the store’s wry little sales slogan, is working to keep us true to our inner Scrooges. “One scented candle for mum, one pair of Victor & Rolf half-price shoe boots for me.” But this year the sales began before Christmas, before those surplus calories get to fuel our one last – and morally-justified – shopping binge. The fashionista’s christmas came early, and much to my dismay I might add, because frankly I don’t need any more incentives to be selfish and to spin the season of goodwill into commercial opportunity. I struggle enough as it is without Selfridges boasting some of the biggest designer reductions I’ve ever seen. Thousand pound pieces of Givenchy, Fendi and YSL slashed to the price of a couple of Reiss dresses. 

Selfridges might want to go the extra mile and emblazon the store with the infamous Wall Street quote beloved by Gordon Gekko: GREED IS GOOD. A return to good old-fashioned 80s capitalist values will boost the economy no end, which is a damn fashionable proposition given that designers have hauled the decade into focus for spring. Ripped jeans and stonewashed morals? Bargain. 

Image Credit: wireimage

Straddling the autumn/winter divide in transitional clothing like cardi-coats is one thing, but the night-time/bedtime divide surely demands no such hybrid.  As much as a silk nightie could double up as a slip dress, most would go for Prada over La Perla to be on the safe side.  Coco Sumner at the Zadig & Voltaire launch party shows us there’s no such thing as safe – that to have one foot in party mode and the other in the land of nod is much more 2008. Hers is a sartorial expression of many a party girl’s innermost wishes: for sleep rather than schlep, cocoa rather than champers, and pyjamas rather than a blinged-up dress. But before we embrace this look as a kind of ‘we’re tired already’ Christmas protest, Coco ensures that nothing nearly as jaded was going through her head.

“It’s my best friend’s sister’s!” she told Grazia. “It’s not a fashion statement. I just saw it as I was leaving and thought it looked really comfy. And it is – plus I can put my Blackberry in the pocket!”

And if that is a squillion pound Balmain dress peeking out from under that pyjama set, so much the better. Mix n’ match is as much about metaphors as it is about designer n’ high street, so if hot chocolate is more appealing than umpteen vodka shots, you may as well take ‘after-party’ to heart and wear the teddies on your sleeve. 

Is it possible to go into mourning for a dress you’ve never owned? It’s fitting that the one in question, an Alexander Wang Bustier dress, happens to be black, because that’s how I feel without it. I fell in love you see, and fashion is fraught with just as many disappointments as l’amour…

♥ First, there is the look-but-don’t touch. So divine, but alas out of bounds, unthinkable, even though you’d make the perfect couple. It’s too high a price to pay, even for love, so you walk. 

♥ Second, there is the betrayal. You thought you were a match-made-in-heaven but then at a party you overhear your ex saying that you look like a fat mermaid. In that instant, the fact that it’s Hervé Léger counts for nothing; you may as well’ve gone to Primark and spent the rest on vodka shots.

♥ Third, there is the-one-that-got-away. Perhaps the most painful because there it is – you’re holding it! – but not in your size, damnit. It was sold out, oh ages ago, smiles the shop assistant. ‘Can you get another in?’ But it’s a dead-ender of ‘last season’s stock/maybe one left in Timbuktoo/here’s the number for the Shangri-La office.

Kiss goodbye to the new you. The more dazzling, effortless you that was only moments away from realisation. Which leads me to…

♥ Fourth, the re-bounder. Try as you might you can’t get over this dress, and you torture yourself with pictures of what might have been. There’s no high street alternative, no tawdry replica, no nothing to fill that sartorial void.

I ask you, what’s the pain of a 6inch stiletto when you’ve loved and lost?

(Credit: thanks to pinprick on flickr for image)

There is no sadder thing than the exposé of a stranger’s sadness, someone you know by dint of their celebrity – that thin casement by which we measure success these days – but otherwise not at all. So Amy Winehouse is held up to the public eye as the wicked witch of wrongdoing, a druggie, a brawler, a warning to our young, and we wring our hands and say isn’t it awful, there’s nothing we can do. Never have we seen a person in more need of country air and a good roast dinner, followed by a long stay in a remote farmhouse with organic vegetables, a juicer, some labradors and a load of DVDs for company.

Back to Health: The Amy Winehouse Detox. It would be the documentary of the year.

Dita Von Teese , who really shouldn’t be consulted on such matters, told the Daily Express, “No matter how much [Amy] breaks down, she still has the beehive of sorts and the outfits and eyeliner. When I see pictures of her I wish I could tidy her up a bit”.

Amy, word of advice, next time you feel like saying “Look what happened to my dreams. I am a mess, look at me,” watch out for Dita, because all you’ll get is a fresh lick of eyeliner and your barnet re-pinned. Fashion folk have long held the belief that a good life follows a good look; and besides, what’s a bit of malnutrition, scabies and jaundice among friends when you’ve got your trademarks sorted out?

Move over Trinny and Susannah, patronizing the nation with their tit-tweaking and bum-lifting, carping on about what we’re all doing wrong. The new BBC documentary British Style Genius is about what we Brits are doing right. “A celebration of the attitudes and icons that drive the way we dress” in a five-part series. Each episode explores a different angle on British fashion, from the shopping sensation that is the high street to the uniquely British ‘country’ look favoured by the royals and the landed gentry. And what fashionista worth her Westwood could fail to be riveted by the behind-the-scenes footage of Kate Moss and her team critiquing pieces from her forthcoming A/W collection? Not only is this a rare glimpse at Moss actually speaking, but you get to see her interact with two of the biggest players in fashion today, Topshop boss Philip Green and uber stylist Katy England. Other heavyweights include Mary Quant, Celia Birtwell, George Davies and Jane Shepherdson, who made Topshop decent in the first place, cruising down Oxford Street in a cab explaining why we should think twice about shopping in Primark. On every Tuesday in October. If you missed it, catch the repeat at:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/britishstylegenius/

Image Credit: thesartorialist.blogspot.com

If there is such a thing as feminist fashion, you could define it like this. The defiance of flattery, prettiness and convention; a sartorial two fingers to targeted dressing for men. Women are dressing to please themselves, to please other women even – and whereas none of this is a revelation, it does herald a major shift in the right direction, ie. the mainstream. Finally designers like Miuccia Prada and Nicolas Ghesquiere, with their avant-garde silhouettes and unorthodox proportioning, are influencing more than front row fashions.  I put to you the following evidence.

1. WAGs are no longer dressing like WAGs. The turbo-charged sexiness that was their selling point is no longer fashionable or, more importantly, relevant. Queen WAG Victoria Beckham wouldn’t be caught dead in that cleavage-defying vest and hotpants combo she donned for the World Cup. And rumour has it she wants a breast reduction. Porn star breasts are soooo 2006. Androgyny daahhling, androgyny is where it’s at.

2. ‘Ugly’ trousers. Can you remember a time when ugly trousers were this fashionable? Palazzo, peg leg, harem – gaping undercarriages, ankle-grazers, 80s style high waists and big hips. Do we really need bigger hips? As it turns out, as long as you get your styling right and balance the new proportions with strong heels and nipped waists, it’s all looking very…modern.

3. Mid-calf length dresses. Oh joy. A universally unflattering cut-off point for all but the leggiest of model, the hemlines have indeed dropped. But has our tolerance for ‘safe’ fashion gone down with them?

4. Footwear. Bother boots, brothel creepers, biker boots, buckles, spikes, studs, rivets. Jazz shoes, loafers, lace-ups, brogues, Chelsea boots. Can we get more butch?

5. Comme Des Garcon for H&M. The mountain shall come to Mohammed.