in print. prada.

Since we're on the topic of beautiful prints, and all and sundry is clamouring for the a ride on the mix-print bandwagon, I thought I'd share the prettiness that is a capsule in the Prada SS 2010 collection (UK Vogue). It's simultaneously delicate and elegant, and the dresses!! — for the name — are relatively well-priced. What's with all these a-tad-above-reach-but-not-completely prices?!!
I do so love the quilted bags (£710).
Okay, and the dresses (£425-£475). and ballerinas (£235).
Well that's it then.
I appreciate Anita Leclerc's recent print mixology guideline (NYTimes). But let's face it, it can hardly be much help when you faced with a wardrobe of prints, an eager attempt to be part of it all. I say mix and match to your heart's delight.
Inside the comfort of your house.
If you must leave the house, phone a friend, or two, and ask whether you look like a little old lady trying to avoid paying excess luggage at the airport — whatever excess luggage means nowadays.
If you are assured that you look fine, call me.
I'll tell you the truth. Just kidding. or not.
I really do love the accompanying print pictures. ALOT. Very pretty, really. There's even another slideshow of pictures sent in readers. On that, not much comment. Oh dear, I'm not terribly hard on people am I?? Truth is, I'm keen on Peter Lappin's and Margot Miller's photos. However, I must say I do think Chitrangada Maitra Somaiya's photo ought to be disqualified. Uhhh.. she's from Mumbai, India. Need I say more?!!!
Yes I'm still dreaming of my trip to India to pick out fabrics for my wedding, thank you for asking.



Pretty kisses.

beautiful kenyan (inspired) prints. SUNO ny

In this instant, I want to be, literally, in this model's shoes. The calm of the ethereal locale merely punctuated by a whispering flutter in the delicate shoulder ruffles of her blouse; the colors and the patterns — a cheerful interjection.

Now, what does one say about Max Osterweis, a man who is all fashion goodness through and through? Thing is, I remember calling my uhh (Kenyan) friend when the designer launched his SUNO line in 2008. We had the requisite ethical fashion-fashionably ethical discussion and I concluded that the designer and his pieces were simply brilliant. Pathetically, I've just dug up this post in my unpublished dungeon of an archive! I'm still dreaming in ikat prints.
Read his story.





Has Fall ever looked so uplifting?! (AW 2010)

SS 2010
Resort 2010




Sugar-frosted kisses.
I'm all sweetness these days... (Ha! b*tch!!)

Dries Van Noten: cavorting with women from my village

My collection of print skirts — not much of one, so I use the word "collection" loosely — reveals my (almost) unequivocal love for Dries Van Noten (and Marni) prints. The shimmering silks and brilliant palettes exude a refined air of self-assuredness; paired with monotone tops, the effect is a lesson in elegant sublimity. I wish they'd paid me for my plugs on twitter during the early summer months. I also use the term 'summer' very loosely.

Some sorting out... Haven't I declared this string of letters that spells "tribal" non existent. Except in the real sense of the word — ummm, the world is made of tribes of people. Say what you will — what exactly does "tribal" mean? A simpleton's catchall term reserved for describing ideas, artifacts etc from the African, South American and Asian (sometimes excluding Russia, China and Japan) continents. In its most often misused and misconstrued sense, the word is undoubtedly a lazy — and derogatory — appellation, propagated in western societies' dialogues; and because it connotes everything, it means nothing. Gimme a break, will ya?! Same thing with frigging "ethnic". Where's the Oxford dictionary committee when one needs help?!! Or to whom should I be making a complaint?!

So yes, Dries Van Noten's spring 2010 collection, a revival, if you will, of the fashion house's distinctive éclat was — and is — continually described as tribal, ethnic... [Hilary Alexander (still love her!) of the Telegraph, ventured... unusual. Oh dear...]

But if anything, my love for Van Noten continues to thrive because this darling man is finally revealing that he loves lots of chocolate in his milk. Oooh la la! I mean where else did he dream up some of the inspiration for his spring collection? Sending his models in a mix of delicious prints: an Uzbekistan cum Indian Ikat print here and there, and more auspiciously, prints that I like to think have their origin in West Africa. Prints, popularly called ankara, that women in my village/ummm... the entire of Nigeria!! have been sporting from time immemorial. And when donned like skirts, they looked suspiciously like tied wrappers. (Ask me later what that means, if you don't know. And just look at the pictures!) I mean seriously!! Love to death!! I'm not going to go off on the same tangent — as no doubt — some people will, and as happens quite frequently with Mr Van Noten and Matthew Williamson (whose ornate prints and embellishments are to die for as well). I whole-heartedly revel in the joy of wrapper-skirts from Nigeria on the runways of Paris, love. But I will say that I absolutely adore and continue look forward to celebrating fabrics from indigenous designers.

Pics from style.com




Bijoux-encrusted bisous.

Burberry Prorsum (a short letter to my cousin)

Yesterday evening, my lovely cousin signed into facebook and told me — very simply — that she wasn't going to the Burberry show/after-party with this oh so handsome male model (totally drool-worthy, no joke!!). *Cue:green-eyed, suffocating gasp* I still can't decide if I'm teed off she refused a rendezvous with Mr. model,¹ or the fact that this was Bur!berry! we're talking about!!
Dear Cousin,
W.h.y?!!!!!

I've a reserved love-hate relationship for Burberry. It's complicated.²

Anyhow, not only were the front rows of the modish gleaming white tent taken hostage by young Brit VIPs natch (Emma Watson, Beckham — well she's 40 or so, no? sheesh you know I live for these people), but more importantly, Christopher Bailey managed, once again, to reinvent the trench; reaffirming the meaning of the latin word Prorsum ((ever) forward) in the brand's name. The famed trench was shorter — mini length! — in a myriad of metallic-tinged nudes and shiny sherbet pastels (not so crazy about). And it was all offered up in a most admirable openwork of draped/pleated fabrics through the garment body, which, in many instances, culminated in beautiful puckerings at the shoulders.

And the back views of the pieces... Love! love! because there's nothing worse than relegating one's aesthetics to the front of a piece only, especially when it can be replicated (to some extent) at the back. (It happens quite often for some odd reason, usu. having to do with costs I imagine!)

The mere short lengths of the trenches in glimmering stiff silks is super and terribly chic; and well, a beautifully-executed marketing maneuver that will ensure that Watson and friends can't wait for a piece of the action come spring. And me too!! I mean my love for barely-there-thigh-grazing shirts and dresses sans trousers (eeeck!) knows no bounds. Now I can experiment with chic trenches too!!

If the silver tinsel that rained from heaven to crown the show a success and the end of LFW (25th anniversary, hence the silver!) wasn't enough, the after-party at the brand's HQ set up mac computer stations for b.l.o.g.g.e.r.s. and writers — ummm... everyone! — to tweet and b.l.o.g. their views about the show. Hell yeah! The trend favouring b.l.o.g.g.e.r.s. (still hate that word!) in every industry continues on the upswing. I can only imagine the ingratiating frenzy. Another genius ploy... Thumbs up B Prorsum. But seriously, imagine the sheer serendipity of standing next to Carine Roitfeld, she's pretending to stare into space while looking sideways at your blog and silently confirming or revoking your pages in her mental rolodex! Yum! She'll make or break you in a few. Dear cousin that could have been you! Okay, you don't b.l.o.g! But, Mlle Roitfeld may have asked for your fbook page or something!

Yes, this tinsel trench (poor excuse for a pic, left) will be a recurring must-have silver in all fashion mags. Wicked.








How does this work in this sleeveless trench piece? Is it a wear-over-the-head kind of dress?? The thought isn't very sexy. I'd rather a secret network of folding closures. I still love it! Pics from Burberry and Style Runway



Pretty kisses.




Footnotes:
1. Pics of this man do him no justice. I want to lick chocolate sauce off his abs. I hate chocolate sauce.
2. Burberry, like Vuitton, Gucci... the brand everyone wants to have. The thing is I love plaid and I especially love Burberry plaid because it's beige base fabric gives it a decidedly lightness (in color, that is) that Ralph Lauren's ink blue or A. McQueen's red/black cannot have. It could be this same lightness in color, drawing attention to the wearer, that makes me so sad when I see what I imagine as wads of plaid on an individual — male or female — over a certain size. I'm sorry. NO. And actually, I'm almost certain I cannot look at a man wearing a Burberry plaid shirt.

le smoking

I have this thing: a love for women ― no, no men this time, just women ― smoking in fashion eds. I know, I know... whatever. And you know, it's really a complex concept that measures, very carefully, the chicness factor and (usually) sex appeal of the entire spread.

I don't feel like writing or I'd go into detail. Maybe sometime later, when I forget completely that I sat through Larry King interviewing Joan Rivers' face the other night. No, I still don't know what they were talking about. I couldn't think, much less move my hands to change the channel, I was just paralyzed, in awe of the wonder that is Ms Rivers' bust (sculpture, that is). Both puns intended. Anyway, Kate Moss in this studded Balmain jackie got me thinking... Yes, she's a badd! ass! and I'd so steal that jacket from her. (No, I don't smoke, let's not talk ethics, just enjoy the pics) I think I want to do a spread just like hers. Now.Tom Ford gets an honorary mention. Haha. You know I love this man!


Kiss. Kiss. Don't get too close, I don't wanna smell the ciggie on your breath. Thanks.