Prada Vestidos para Mujer Moda Otoño Invierno 2011 2012 - Semana de la Moda de Milan

Mujeres Atractivas


Prada Fall Winter 2011 2012 - Milan Fashion Week

Mujeres Atractivas

Via Hola



video: http://www.youtube.com/user/catwalkwhore

Summer storm a-brewing

Where life takes place is reminiscent of how that life is lived. In the UK, more specifically in London, life is lived inside. Inside oneself, inside the house, inside the group of friends one surrounds oneself with.

Furthermore, I am usually constantly working, which so far I always thought required another level of interiority. As I spend most my days relocating my life to the outdoors with every sunny moment absorbed into the pores of my sun-drenched being, there's also memento mori of weather, based on previous experience of UK summer.

Re-locating to the garden

As many will confirm, the summer experienced in said lovely little wet country centers around roughly two weeks in late spring, usually around the time when exams are due. Almost like clockwork awareness the rain and drizzle misery will approach in clouds of darkness by the time you have handed in your last essay - an awareness that stays with you no mater how long ago you've graduated. With this in mind, the very first storm that came a-brewing this year had people drily stating that autumn had now arrived and me wailing. However, the very next day, the sun came back out and we rejoiced once more. So much so, in fact, that when the storm clouds came thundering down the horizon or what counts as one within the limited visibility of Londonderry, I thoroughly enjoyed layering up in summer storm appropriate gear without fear (ohh, rhyme) of any ceasing of summer.

Ada Gatti red knit shirt
Vintage red and black beads necklace
Atmosphere blue bird jacket
Traditional Scottish pleat skirt
Pringle red golf socks
Prada red T-bar heels
Blue Lira Leirner bow hairclip

THE SHAME

Ugh. So I stayed up to see the Baftas red carpet looks last night. Which is at least two hours of my life I'm never getting back.


Obviously nobody was ever going to make too much effort, given that they're British and this is a serious British award decided by British people, so it's ok to wear something calf-length with sleeves and a collar.


But that hardly rules out looking halfway decent, which nobody did. The lesser amount of glitz associated with the Baftas actually had me looking forward to it, given that the looks should in theory have been more wearable and more fashion-based. THEORY turned out to be the operative word. Seriously, my best-dressed of the night goes to Andrew Garfield. A boy. In a suit. Who pretty much only got the award because I am deeply in love with him.


Ask yourself, if you had zero budgetary or logistical restrictions placed upon what you could wear, would you pick any of these?

Style-wise, being my favourite Girl Aloud is still like being the best house on a bad block. And Ashish? Really? You'd think as the E! host, Kimberley Walsh would know this wasn't the Soap Awards. And ps, is she drunk?

Ginny Weasley in Clements Ribeiro. We get it, you're all grown up now, you and Harry have kids so you've definitely lost your V plates. Why not try dressing like you are, say, 25, before heading straight to 79-year-old territory?

Hailee Steinfeld rocking the same god-awful Prada grandma crap that always makes Carey Mulligan look like she has a stick up her ass. And I had such high hopes after her moment of glory in Prabal Gurung at the Golden Globes. You've got one more chance kid, and it's called The Oscars, which gives you two weeks to make sure this doesn't happen again.

Hermione in Valentino's gran's lace curtains. Are we sensing a theme yet people? PREMATURE AGEING. Give nonna back her curtains Hermy, but see if you can maybe borrow her wig.

Even Bellatrix Lestrange has let me down. Because it's NOT BAD ENOUGH.

Thank the lord then for Sarah Harding, who came as an ageing East End prostitute on the point of accepting her days of turning tricks are numbered and turning madam, and Minnie Driver, who apparently moonlights as an elderly cruise ship singer, with her jaw accompanying her on keyboards.


What were either of them even doing there? I doubt whether anyone handing out Baftas saw St Trinian's, and when was the last time Minnie Driver appeared on any screen anywhere outside of the homes of people who own the Good Will Hunting DVD?

Rosamund Pike is off to Abigail's Party.

Eva Green (I think she was a Bond Girl with twenty minutes of screen time about six years ago) clearly thinks she is sexy enough to pull this off. She is not.

Jessica Alba looks nice, but who cares? Looking nice is hardly a compliment, and it's Jessica Alba. She always strikes me as one of those celebs who are just really really dumb. Like she's only an actress (kinda) because she was the exact precise combination of stupid, pretty, toned and just under regulation catalogue model height to rule out all other options.

So basically everyone looked like total crap. And I've spent a fair amount of time asking myself why, and what in the hell happened, and whether world order will ever be restored, but as to the former maybe we'll never know, and as to the latter, we can only hope.

And breathe............

One thing I have gained from this experience though (and I think it's important that we take something from it), is the certainty of what I have long suspected. That most people writing about fashion talk absolute crap, most of the time. I have read acres of gushing rubbish all over the internet about how great some of these people look. And nobody could possibly actually think that.

SS11

Spring/Summer has never been my favourite season, and I'm far more excited about the imminent Autumn/Winter shows than I am about what's about to hit the shops right now. Aside from the fact that the AW shows tend to be where the designers really make their statements, I'm much more of a Winter girl, which renders me freakishly grateful for Scottish weather, and thus somewhat of a pariah in the myriad social situations which demand ritual bemoaning of our nation's climate.

The ubiquitous and tedious conversations that revolve around a longing for summer and the wearing of pumps and short sleeves are lost on me, as are the delights of (at least) six months of the year on those perpetuating this endless moaning, in my opinion.

Saying that, I have sartorial ennui, and am delighted at the prospect of anything new and fresh right now. And the SS11 shows (the ones that were held last October but are telling us what we'll be wearing this Summer, for those who don't keep up with the fashion calendar and yet are still, inexplicably, reading this) had plenty of that to offer.

Most instantly notable is the explosion of Pantone neons on the runways; a clear reaction to the sea of tasteful Phoebe Philo-endorsed camel and navy of AW10.

My favourite example of this, and my favourite show, was without a doubt Jil Sander.

I've been a Jil Sander fan for years, channelling their fresh, uncomplicated Germanic sensibility the only away I could afford (Sun perfume), and could not be happier to see a return to form so triumphant that it stole the shows.

This is basically my dream wardrobe. A stark, clean, voluminous, structured aesthetic in black, white and navy, but with great swathes of hi-tech neons to update it. The three looks above would fulfil my every sartorial dream.

This season's neons are a world away from the heady days of nu-rave we all knew and loved five years ago, although I'm sure American Apparel will be cashing in again. Think Ladurée macarons and hothouse flowers, geraniums and gerberas, rather than fluoro highlighter pens, which this time round must be worn in classic shapes with structure; shirts, gaberdine skirts and prim, button-down dresses.

Predictably enough, with their customary and appropriately Calvinistic minimalism, Calvin Klein was another personal highlight. Still managing to stand out when everyone else has suddenly adopted the pared-down-to-the-point-of-barely-qualifying-as-an-effort aesthetic that has been your trademark since forever is some achievement, but this collection is my favourite from the label in years. With it, they proved that none of these Johnny-come-latelys do minimalism like Calvin Klein.

Severe and yet somehow simultaneously romantic, these beauties would make the perfect blank canvas for my piles of jewellery to corrupt. Ah, Lara. You thought I'd forgotten you but I've never wanted you more.

In stark contrast, my usually beloved Marc Jacobs pretty much broke my heart this season. With this:

The entire collection was similarly hideous. This will do for illustration, as I can't bear to look at any more of it ever again. You can wax lyrical for as long as you like about the clever use of the late 70s as a fitting inspiration during an economic climate that mirrors that time exactly, but you're not going to wear it are you?

Similarly, Mrs Prada appeared to have some sort of breakdown this season:

Fluoro green banana print bowling shirt anyone?

Fugly 70s prints were a worryingly oft-seen occurrence. I've never been a fan of the decade taste forgot. Early 70s rock'n'roll, which was basically a late 60s hangover anyway, I can deal with. But then it all went a bit Marc Bolan and within a few short years people were dressing predominantly in mustard-hued prints reminiscent of the curtains you might hang in a caravan were you inclined to ever set foot in one.

Even irony does not save this look for me. But Thakoon, Rodarte and, disappointingly, Peter Pilotto apparently couldn't get enough of it. Unsurprisingly given their default aesthetic, Gucci made the best job of attempting to inject some sex into this essentially repulsive look, but I'm still not even vaguely interested in wearing it.

While we're dealing with disappointment, we might as well get Chris Kane and Jonathan Saunders out the way. I feel let down on a personal level by both our Great Scottish Hopes.

Christopher Kane, with his Princess Margaret-inspired boxy suits in fluoro PVC-coated lace, was particularly upsetting:

Jonathan Saunders' collection, while less offensive, was all just a bit too Cheryl Cole. I suspect that this will be the high street hit in provinces across the country, and the one most beloved of Glasgow's kitchen beautician crowd, staggering to Boho in their sky high patent platforms.

Lanvin helps me deal with the bitterness:

Alber Elbaz's slightly offbeat version of the colour trend, played out in a more muted palette of crimson, midnight blue, sea green-grey and aubergine, with flashes of chartreuse and raspberry, made this show a standout. The combination of billowing skirts with an athletic aesthetic renders the look totally wearable, as seen already on Blake Lively, my slightly embarrassing but just-can't-help-myself girl crush. While we're on the subject, what the hell is the Kaiser up to making her his new #1 girl when there's a perfectly good Clémence Poésy already out there in the world?

Needless to say, the insect brooches were another massive selling point.

Chloé's USP, in a season awash with eye-watering brights, was ballet. I loved that Hannah McGibbon went right to the other end of the colour palette, and no doubt her collection of crossover tops and ballerina-length skirts in pleated chiffon and shades of white and camel, worn with proper ballet pumps, will be a huge high street success thanks to the Black Swan influence. This is a look I can definitely see myself actually adopting, and I'll most certainly be sticking with my new found signature bun and trusty (haven't washed my hair for a few days) milkmaid plaits in light of this.

N.B. One other notable mini-trend is the rise of a new erogenous zone: the stomach. First seen at Miu Miu a couple of seasons ago, this is a trend that has come into its own, possibly due to the dominance of the maxi length, which rules out former favourite the thighs. This was glimpsed via cut-outs and seen at about half of all the shows, notably at Dior, YSL, Versace, Rodarte and Marc Jacobs (and less notably at House of Holland).

Personally I'm not keen, and not just because I'm a lazy bitch who takes a dislike to people as soon as they tell you which gym they go to. Off the runway and out on the streets, I'm pretty sure this will just translate as tacky. It won't help that the legions of bright orange morons who populate Sauchiehall Street of a Saturday night and are similarly averse to the gym, but not to wearing very small clothes, will make the trend their own.

As for me, I'm planning to venture into the new and challenging world of floor-sweeping maxis, although I'll ease myself in with a black one before venturing to AmAppy to see what they have in terms of Jil Sander pink rip-offs. The maxi trend has been on the brink for a couple of seasons now and I've tried and failed before with a Topshop McQueen digital print rip, but I couldn't walk in it, literally. That was an elegant day.

This season's more voluminous, romantic version gives me new hope. I'll be wearing it Jil/Tilda style with a slouchy white tee and all my jewellery, just so I know it's still me in the mirror.

Similarly, I've been toying with the idea of a neon pink lip (while simultaneously pondering the eternal existential conundrum and Hu Jintao's true intentions) for a while, but now it's a must.

Purple Phase at the Ballet

Image by Lua L.

Brown vintage Fox fur
Purple and magenta satin silk Karen Millen Cut Out dress
Black Yorkshire Pearl bracelet
Black velvet clutch
Purple, Magenta and black "Sweets" suede Prada pumps

Brazil Look Day 1

Black Proenza Shouler Round Sunglasses
Orange and red gingham Lira Leirner Batwing blouse
Red silk M&S skirt
Red Le Pliage Longchamp bag from the 1990s
Black and white Lira Leirner kimono bracelet
Givenchy tights
Multi red and white patent Prada platform sandals

You'll see quite a few of these outfit posts in the coming weeks. This blog is not really one of these, but while in Brazil I feel it's necessary because every day here is like a catwalk day. The same way normal people in the fashion industry prepare and arrange their outfits for the twice yearly fashion weeks, I have throughout my life, prepared and separated my best pieces for the visits to Brazil so obviously, I want to share those with you.

Today I woke up at 4am and worked on drawing up 28 pieces of my next collection until 12.30 when my mum came to pick me up to go bid a friend of the family farewell - a painter who has known my mother since college years (whose brother was my aunt's first boyfriend) but who I only really met when she lived 15 minutes away from my house in Hamburg for the 10 years I lived there.

I carried a 10 kg heavy paper roll (for the patterns) in those 5 inch Prada sandals, which had three store managers running after me in the want to help me with that heavy thing but I obviously refused. The gingham orange batwings had the porter laughing at me when I made my way to my mum's car but that's part of the fun, eh? I also hung out with my granddad and my great grandmother (my granddad's mum) who kept saying I was the most beautiful thing she'd seen all day. Despite ensuring her it was all based on her genes and that she looks at TV most of the time she kept repeating it. I said my good byes and proceeded to head home and work on creating several patterns until 2am.

The world has gone Mad

So my friend Meredith and I were having our customary fashion discussion via text marathon during the Emmys Red Carpet (thanks Ryan and Giuliana). We do it every red carpet event that E! covers, it's like our own private version of live-blogging, and I thought maybe I'd get a cheap blog post out of it, but Christina Hendricks' breasts have obliterated all other images of the shindig from my memory.

Which leads me neatly to an issue I have. Not with the boobs (they're ludicrous and she totally needs a reduction, but that's up to her, and PS; January Jones is about a million times more attractive) but with Mad Men, and the infuriating influence it's having not only on legions of overly-impressionable television viewers who seem to be under the impression La Hendricks is the first woman to ever possess breasts, but on erstwhile sensible designers.


If I have to read one more article about how to get the "ladylike" look this AW I'll, well I'll just fall asleep actually. Mad Men, gloves, red lipstick, ladies, nipped-in waists, Mad Men, circle skirts, ladies, proper handbags, kitten heels yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn.


It is beyond me why any woman would want to return to an era of servitude, even if only through the medium of costume. Who the hell are these people that WANT to dress like someone's secretary? Or a neglected hausfrau at a coffee morning?


Prada, Louis Vuitton and Marc Jacobs (how could you do this to me Marc? Twice!), I'm looking at you.


And "the new calf-length"? Are they kidding? Please, it made Christy Turlington look frumpy. What do you think it's going to do to you? I don't care how "fresh" it looks after season after season of arse-skimming hemlines, there's a reason short skirts are perennial: they are FLATTERING. And every single dress on the Marc Jacobs AW10 runway would look better if you hacked ten inches off it.


Thank god for Philip Lim, Proenza Schouler, Isabel Marant, Gucci and Celine, all of whom proved beyond a doubt that a bit of androgyny is always sexier than dressing like the repressed secretary the boss wants to bang.

Welcome to my Shoedrobe

I am traveling to Brazil soon, for almost a month. I'm looking forward to it, but will not only miss the constant access to wireless internet, usage of my iPhone, M&S food, hugs from Stu and general freedom to do as I please, I will also miss my wardrobe. Probably most of all. Usually when I pack I chose a color and take the basics for that specific color. This only works in theory or when I am away for a weekend. Any kind of voyage that closes in on a week or goes beyond, requires me to choose several colors and 'do' the respective basics - for instance, last year I went to Israel for 10 days. These were the BASICS I chose to take with me (only the basics, I'm pointing out once more). The basics are:

Cardigan (Silk or Cashmere)
Scarf (Silk or Lambswool)
Sunglasses (Mainly Aigner in this case)
Longchamp bag
Pump flats
Heels
Flip Flops
And for some of them a belt and brogues

Now, I am going for almost a month, which requires a lot more planning than this. I mean, this part above is a given, except I've got nicer shoes now and will most likely replace orange with gray. But I also need to decide upon key items for three completely separate categories:

1. Family lunch and dinner outfits, which can couple up as outfits for general functions and inside activities such as mall shopping or anything else done in the safety of a car - aka demure dresses, not extravagant but classic heels, maybe a cardigan and bags for presents I bring (aka my Longchamps) and for when I am working, which will most likely be in a Starbucks, the only place I can imagine has wireless internet. In Brazil it is customary to bring a present when you visit someone.

2. Functions, dinners and gallery openings. Speaks for itself - needs sparkling dresses (I don't mean literally, just figuratively), gorgeous heels, clutch and elegant evening jackets

3. Clothes to work the street. Key here is to blend in, which I believe will be almost impossible considering I'm about as white as a ghost to their standard. I can get a very lovely tan and look a lot more passable then, but the work this summer has kept me inside and I am as close to an English Rose as I ever will be. I don't have high hopes, but I can at least try. Need to stay away from anything too "cool", which will make me stand out immediately as European aka no lumberjack cool with a shirt and jeans or a belt or vest thrown over to layer up a look. This will need to be (long) jeans, a white T-shirt (yes, those plain ones with some motive on them) and usually trainers, but I'm not doing that. I'm going to use Havaianas, which is just as passable. Not looking forward to this part, but should only take up the room of four pieces.

4. Holiday get-away sporty situations. That means summery dresses with elegant pumps or sandals, lovely hats, bikinis and "panos", the beach scarf/ pashmina one wears in Brazil.

So far in my life I have done this pack almost intuitively (aka bring all my favourite stuff on top of the basics), and the results were merely "OK". I could make most of my stuff work, but this time I want to be systematic so that I can find space for all the bargains I will find to bring back!

In order to do so, I will document my wardrobe (also so I can look back at my articles and stroke the screen when I am suffering withdrawal symptoms).

Today, I am starting with shoes. I herewith welcome you to my shoedrobe (portmanteau alert!).

It starts with a Prada, Gucci, Miu Miu and Marc Jacobs collection of red shoes, then moves over across the window to the tan shoes Rupert Sanderson, Jane Shilton, and Dune above the soft colored Miu Miu, Louboutin and Manolo Blahnik, below it the cream selection of Jimmy Choo, Arezzo and Diesel.

It moves into suede then patent leather chocolate brown Prada, Gucci, LK Bennett and Next above gray Lanvin, Prada and Zara above cream and black Miu Miu, Anne Michelle and Corezzo. Then on to a dark, hard to recognize corner with black Miu Miu, Buffalo, and Karen Millen above the yellow and peach moc croc Zara and Buffalo heels above four pairs of dark blue heels. Moves into khaki Zara and Miu Miu heels above purple Jimmy Choo and Kurt Geiger. Moving onto the next shoedrobe there are dark brown Hugo Boss and Karen Millen boots to black Versace heeled boots and second hand boots above six layers of flats ranging from Miu Miu to Tommy Hilfinger to Arezzo to Gina to Roland Cartier.

Moving to the next the lower shelf has black Fendi and Zara boots, silver Marc Jacobs boots and second hand moc cowboy boots, under a shelf of ankle boots by Chanel, Calvin Klein, Gardenia, and Luxury Rebel. Above it Miu Miu wellies next to tie up brogues Shapman & Moore from Bond Street, Russel and Bromley and German brand Kink. It continues with three other heels, some All Stars and four trainers from Nike, Diesel and Addidas and lastly more wellies, second hand suede faux fur lined camel boots and Nike snow boots.

There's also another shelf with a heap of shoes I am trying to sell on eBay, which I haven't included, but my selection once it comes to actually packing will be as outlined above. One of each type for each color. Simples!

An Ode to my top Favourite Shoes

Look at my sweet little soldiers... These are my top twenty one favorite shoes only. I didn't photograph all of my shoes because that would cover too many pages and what's the point? I created this ode as a memory preservation, just in case London manages to ruin them, which I'm sure it will.

Which one do you like best and why?