Happy Birthday to Carnaby Street!

This year is the 50th birthday of Carnaby Street, and to celebrate a pop up gallery/museum has opened smack-bang in the middle of the street showing fashions and photos from the swinging sixties and seventies, focusing on Carnaby Street as centrally important in Londons growing music and fashion scenes during those decades.

The centre piece of the exhibit is a wall length cabinet which contains unique historical documents and mass produced goods (once everywhere, but rare today) I saw a Carnaby street doll produced in the late 60s that i'd never seen before: it made me think of the Mary Quant doll (called Daisy) which I once cited as the end of Quant's indie-London cool and the start of her slide into commercialism. There is also a video containing footage of Carnaby street from the sixties which prooves fascinating watching.

I know I talk about it frequently because it's a passion of mine, but I love all of the sixties images; the way the women carry themselves, the fashion, the haircuts are all fascinating to me. I love to compare the lives of women over that 50 year period and more importantly their perception of their lives and their relationships. Carnaby street style in the 60s was admired the world over (think Austin Powers!) and so I think it's fantastic that the anniversary is being celebrated in this way. From mods to hippies to punks, London was leading the way and the trendsetters were buying their clothes in Carnaby street.

I can heartily recommend a quick trip to the mini-exhibition. It's free to enter, only takes 15 minutes to walk around, and it's a great way to learn something about the modern-history of London fashion. And it's right in the middle of all the shops, so it's a great thing to do when you're in town and you're tired of the retail therapy.

Love, Tor xx

Sexy Stance for the Grads

Hello blogosphere,

My mother was right - I am a winner! Actually, I always have been. When I was a child, I was quite the tow-headed OCD competition freak. I entered everything and I won a lot: boomboxes, little torches, bright yellow stilts, tickets to see While You Were Sleeping... friends, I was little short of a pre-teen Scarface except instead of cocaine, I was drowning in crossword puzzles and a promotional tape of Madonna's Immaculate Collection. Money, Women, Power etc. Fine times.

Anyway, yesterday I received a hand-addressed envelope through my letterbox and lo! it was from Catwalk Queen and contained two tickets to the Education Day at Graduate Fashion Week where these fine people (and others) will be doing their best Q&A:

Lorraine Candy, Editor of Elle UK

Henry Holland

And it's all hosted by that lady what is off The Clothes Show

How exciting, right? I also get free entry into the exhibition at Earls Court so I can peruse the Graduate collections and hopefully talk to some new and interesting designers. I shall have to wear big confident shoulders to give me courage. I was feeling very fancy-pants and high end getting to attend the Q&A and all, until I read this blurb on the website:

The Education Day is primarily aimed at school groups and those at Further Education Colleges. However individual tickets can be purchased, but under 16’s must be accompanied by an adult.

Wow. Catwalk Queen didn't mention that in their competition blurb. Apparently, I'm gonna be rollin' with the jailbait. Not quite as exclusive and fashiony as I first hoped and the focus will be on Higher Education in fashion but you never know what fascinating tidbits could drop, especially if I ask pertinent questions. Either that, or I attach myself to Lorraine Candy like a particularly ardent Giant Squid until she gives me a job at Elle. I could write that Mademoiselle bullshit anyday of the week.

Artist's impression of Becky climbing the career ladder.
Also pictured: Iain R Webb (with axe, moustache)

So, I received the tickets yesterday and I'm going tomorrow. Things move fast in fashion and fashion-related edu-tainment, huh? What does one wear in this particular field? I've half a mind to tear my wardrobe apart. Bear in mind also that I'll be swinging on by the Topshop flagship to check out the Helmut Newton self-portrait machine. My vanity wouldn't allow anything less - plus Susie Bubble made it look so much fun!

When I take my turn, I'll be channeling these Helmut Newton pics:

Elizabeth Taylor, a distorted reflection and a parrot. Yes. Yes.

Paris Vogue: April 1977 cover

Oh Iman, I love you so much. You rock a turban even better than Andre Leon Talley.

In summation: I'm going to throw a hissy fit if Topshop doesn't let me show my boobs. You can make me up with Nars and throw designer/high street collaborations at me, it don't mean nothing without an angry Newton nipple in the photo. Though I ain't got a Newton model body, I love the strength in these women's stance, the confrontation or self absorbation (actually we could argue the socio-political question of 'gaze' and those ankle shackles in the Imam photo, but I'm certain that both she and Newton are fully aware of the fetishistic and racial implications of the image. I like that it's dangerous and ambiguous and they're dancing on that line -it makes me think of an updated version of Manet's Olympia, and what with the direction of the maid's gaze, the curtain and the reiteration of that paisley wallpaper, I wouldn't be shocked if it was a direct influence) and I want to celebrate that.

Olympia by Edouard Manet (1863)

Hmm. Got a bit academic for a second. Don't worry. There'll be plenty of boobs tomorrow. I have to go and pack and practice my power pose. Wish me luck, internet friends.

Your pal,
Becky

To Illustrate = Super Great

Hello blogosphere,

One of the lovely things about becoming enmeshed in the world of blogging is that you get in contact with a million people across the globe who are literally so talented it makes you (in the words of Zadie Smith) "want to pee yourself a bit in jealousy". There are the beautiful idiosyncratic stylists (Susie of Style Bubble, LiebeMarlene, Fabi, the Queens), the busty and hilarious 1930s wisecrackers (Winona of Daddy Likey, Wendy Brandes) and the artists.

Today class, we're looking at art. This is mostly because yesterday I received the link to my very own illustrated self.

From this:

Snapshot of me on the train going to see the Barenaked Ladies in Cambridge, dressed in my H&M chiffon cape top and vintage coat.

To this:

Yes friends, I have bears in my hair. Bears are the only accessory I'll accept now. I do so love Susie's head-bird but for me, tiny living ursidae crawling on my head, kickin' back and catchin' salmon, this is where I'm at, fashion-wise.

This is all the work of illustrator Damien Weighill and his awesome blog "Your Face". The premise is this: if you are a real live person, send him your face and he will draw you a real live picture. Damien is a fine fellow- I like his simple lines and scary animals. He also writes very nice e-mails. To thie end, I encourage you to check out his attractive merchandise:

Queen with a moustache. Can't say fairer then that for £22.
Buy buy buy here

You (yes you) can even appear on homeware items if you so choose.

The poor Queen. She shaves her moustache and gets mauled by a lion. Makes you think.
Screenprint (signed): £25 here

Awesome. I think this is the only time I've been even remotely muse-like. And I think it's the only time I ever will. My muse for the day? Miss Moneypenny's 80s blouses in the irredeemably shitty "Never Say Never Again" which was showing this afternoon on ITV1.

From this:

To this:

Bow Blouse and Starsky&Hutch cardigan from Oxfam. Wide leg trousers from Topshop.

Yuh. I don't think David Downton's gonna be calling anytime soon. Nor Sean Connery for that matter. Still, I don't mind. I have my tea, I have my bears. I'm pretty happy.

I hope you are too.

Your pal,
Becky.