Fashion Art - Westwood Rubens and Giles Delaroche

To me, fashion is an art form but I especially love it when a work of art is used to create something wearable and beautiful. There are two that have particularly caught my eye lately because they're my kind of clothes featuring my kind of art.

As expected, one is by Vivienne Westwood who has a habit of using beautiful art from the past in her designs.

Friday Rubens Print Dress
£508 at my-wardrobe.com

Twister Elephant Rubens Print Dress
£316 at my-wardrobe.com

Castor and Pollux Abduct the Daughters of Leukyppos - Peter Paul Rubens

The other is by Giles Deacon who wins bonus points for using a portrayal of my favourite historical period - Tudor England.

Giles printed T-shirt of Lady Jane Grey
£359 at farfetch.com

The Execution of Lady Jane Grey - Paul Delaroche

Avarice In Westwoodland

Dame Vivienne has graced London Fashion Week with another catwalk full of new creations for her Red Label collection, and therefore I must make my new list of items to covet.

In the past I've been so breathtaken by a suit on display in Westwood that my friends had to take me outside for air before I passed out. Seriously. The mixture of art, fashion, decadence, craftsmanship and beauty overwhelmed me. ...they took me into Harvey Nics to laugh at the Juicy Couture section which quickly brought me back down to earth with a bump. Despite my love of pink, sparkly things and embelishments, JC's pepto bismol velour tracksuits embelished to high heaven make me nauseous. Or overcome with laughter. Luckily the staff in Harvey Nics found our about-turn disgust at one item on display hilarious too.

Anyway, back to Vivienne. If there is one outfit designed to cause similar knee weakening, breath stealing effects it's this black velvet suit:

At the sight of it among the catwalk pictures I felt a brief stab of pain combined with deep earth shattering adoration. Such a similar feeling to that of unrequited love that I'm now seriously wondering if I'm designed more for fashion than relationships. Anyway, I want it. I would wear it until large patches of velvet had worn away on it. And then I'd wear it some more. Vivienne would be cool with that, she's always going on about clothes being better when they're truly worn in and worn out. I love the thick lushness of the velvet, the way it flicks out where the side vent meets the cuff, and the perfection of the ankles. I want it badly. I would read poetry in it whilst lent against trees.

Next on the lust list is a frendsy of excitement over several details. First being the fabulousness of the fabric in this skirt. Then the quirkiness of the double buckle belt which is then connected to braces which fasten top and bottom at the back so that they grace merely your shoulders at the front. And the placing of the ruffle on that blouse is utter perfection. But mainly I crave one of those belts. I pray that the goddess Vivienne will supply them in a vegetarian friendly substance.

Now one of the many "that woman is a genius!" moments. I love pendants, I love charm bracelets. I tend to wear too many pendants on a necklace so that they all cluster together and keep toying with ideas to convert them into some kind of neck version of a charm bracelet. Well, she's done it. Hurrah! I've been admiring a few of these stamp pendants in her shops for a while now and find this way of displaying them perfect. I don't know if this comes as a whole piece or not, but I love the idea of constructing my own. Bravo Vivienne!

More little details. I have found the unusual construction on these trousers deeply wonderful and am hoping they will work with my body shape. Detailing around this area doesn't usually work due to the difference between my wide hips and much smaller waistline, but Dame Viv hasn't let me down yet so we shall see. Also loving the frayed style edging on these belts.Cinched in high wasited trousers are deffinately something my figure was created for. Therefore I love these gorgeous pin striped trousers. And what is there not to desire about the blouse fabric?! More high waist cinching with the first skirt on this list. No-one could realise just how much I longed to wear pencil skirts before I discovered the wonder of Vivienne's cut. I now have a few of them which make me feel elegant and curvy all at the same time. Wide hips and a bottom that resembles a bustle made everything pre-Westwood turn me into the animated character Jessica Rabbit. Which may seem wonderful, but it made me overly self conscious and had me living permanently in a-line skirts and mini kilts for years. ...which means that not only do I crave the perfection of the first skirt, but I also want the a-line velvet and giant ribbon confection. And it's about time I had a proper flirty Westwood kilt seeing as I've been wearing inferior versions since my early teens. Unfortunately I always end up spending my money on something else when I venture into her shops.

I'm also fasninated by the open fastening detail of the skirt in the bottom corner, and utterly delighted by the bold stripes and fancy back of the second skirt. But if I could only have one out of all of them, it'd still be that first high waisted pencil skirt.

The next three are very easy to explain. I love pink and black as a combination and I spent my 1980s childhood in an array of trouser suits imagining being the next female prime minister or some other such power dressing female... but obviously one who's a bit mental and flamboyant. ;) I love the shape of the gold dress but know the colour would do me few favours and I'm not sure what the cut would do either. But it's lovely to look at. The third one seems to be an all in one cross between a catsuit and a beautiful pin stiped mens suit. It's fabulous, it's beautifully made, it's entirely crazy while not overly eye catching to walk past on the street - I want it!

More little details before I finish. I don't usually crave Vivienne's adventures in socks. They're a little too crazy even for me. But these are too much like historical ladies stockings for me not to be fascinated. Goodness knows what you could wear them with that didn't make you look like a frump or a lunatic though. Maybe I'll work it out while I'm still vaguely yung enough to wear them.

The fabric in the centre of the picture is wonderful, the way it combines an old style fabric print with maunscript style wording through the background. Can't wait to see what items it appears on. Thirdly, the coat. I think it's a coat, or maybe a long jacket. I can't see it very well, but the fabric and the cut already look marvelous as it flows behind the model. It's going to be so cravable and the sort of thing that you wear to death, I just know it.

And finally, I noticed some Westwood style customisation of the Red Nose Day t-shirts under one suit on the catwalk. I've ordered mine and am therefore awaiting the arrival of a naughty Marie Antoinette styled lady, an Elizabethan Queenie and Edmund Blackadder in a ruff. As soon as I saw the shirts they cried out for customisation. I think she's designed them like that on purpose. Or am I just too addicted to attacking t-shirts with a pair of scissors? Can't decide what exactly I'll do to them until they arrive, but maybe I'll post the results on here.

I recommend grabbing one of your own and finding ways to make it more decadent and self expressive. Something like this perhaps:

http://www.tkmaxx.com/red-nose-day-t-shirts-designed-to-do-good/page/rednoseday/

Shopping With Staff

I hate shopping. Anyone who knows my love of clothes, has seen the amount of "junk" (clothes, books, music, pictures) in my house or the amount of bags I return from a shopping trip with will be astonished by this. But I really do truly hate the experiance.

Fighting through crowds of other girls on the high street looking for an item of clothing is my idea of hell. Hate it. I either know there's something there I want (spying it in the window on the way past or knowing about it from a magazine or friend) and can dash in at great speed and grab one in my size or it's not going to happen. It inspires a stress headache within minutes and you only have to mention the word "Primark" to me and I get an overwhelming feeling of nausea at the idea of the chaos in that kind of a building.

This is why I tend to return from a shopping trip with zillions of bags. I have spent weeks building up plans of what I need and where they are and can cover all of the high street shops in Leeds in about an hour to grab my entire wish list.

Now to supermarkets. I have an actual phobia of them. Apparently this is very common and was the original meaning of agoraphobia (Greek for "fear of the market place"). I have lately been learning to tackle this and can now browse occasionally when the place is quiet. I now emerge the majority of the time without running at a breakneck speed out of the doors with tears stinging my eyes and my heart pounding at ninety miles an hour. If you take me there when it's busy and I actually get through the doors it's likely I'll abandon the trolly and run for the exit part way through. Most days I nauseously build myself up towards the idea of going, put on a brave face, and hope to emerge with ingredients that can actually be constructed into a meal or two. Tesco Online is a total Godsend for actually stocking my cupboards with sensible items once in a while.

A member of staff bothering me in a shop will be greeted with a look of panic. Someone at the checkout suggesting I go back to the kitkats and buy two smaller packs because it's cheaper that way is enough to cause me to feel faint. It's lovely that they're trying to help but my aim is to get out of the building as quickly as possible. Just what I don't need is someone demanding I walk past the queue of people waiting behind me to swap things round and then looking at me crazy and getting cross when I say I'm fine with my more expensive larger packet.

"Shopping with staff" is however a whole different board game.

What I like is going to a nice quiet boutique with enough space around me that I can breathe, and staff on hand to assist me in finding what I desire. That I love. I could sit in Vivienne Westwood for hours on the comfortable furniture while staff run around finding me shoes in an array of colours. I sigh with pleasure as they suggest alternative items and teach me how to fasten a belt in a way that means I will forever discard the normal way of fastening a belt because it's not as beautiful as the way that "Vivienne likes it".

Liverpool's Hervia Westwood Store

This is a pleasure that my father taught me on rare trips to city department stores in the search for a new party dress. It could be his fault why I have wardrobes full of evening wear but lack any knowledge of how to do "casual". I was about seven before I even tried on a pair of jeans and I remember learning to climb walls in a white smocked dress and black patent shoes.

This "shopping with staff" pleasure is one that must be enjoyed with a friend otherwise it looses the full joy. Having dragged dearest Charley off on a few of these trips, I fear that we are now fully fledged addicts. Our last trip to Leeds involved us being accosted in Lush by envious staff wanting to know what we had in our multiple giant pink Westwood bags, then having trouble fitting everything into the boot of my teeny tiny little Ford Fiesta.

Goodies found in Leeds by Charley and myself

Talking of Lush, this is another shopping pleasure. Again as much because of the products as the staff. Yes I love cosmetics, yes I trained as a beautician and hairdresser so I understand them, and yes I do find Lush products to be one of my great indulgences. But the experiance of going into somewhere with such happy, enthusiastic, quirky and knowledgable staff is an absoloute pleasure. If I want a specific type of product but don't know what to get I just ask their advice and they always come up with the perfect item. If I'm in a rush I can tell them what I need and they'll help me grab everything. If I'm not in a rush I tend to ask if there's anything new in stock and they'll do more than just tell me, they'll try the products out in front of me as they explain about them. Thus I emerge excitedly with new Lush goodies to use, cradled in hands that have just been pampered using half the products now stored in my goodie bag. I've also never had a moment in any Lush shop where the member of staff couldn't answer my questions about the products. Right down to where the ingredients are sourced and why they are in the product in the first place.

Another place I love for it's exquisitely fabulous staff is Harrods Urban retreat. I was lucky enough to win a day of pampering there and I emerged well and truly pampered. I would recommend to anyone the utter bliss of a visit to the Roja Dove Haute Parfumerie there for a fragrance consultaion. It was one of the most decadent, sense inspiring experiances of my life, and I'm a the kind of person who hunts down decadence and sensual pleasures with an unending passion for more.

Roja Dove

Just imagine lounging against embroidered silk and velvet pillows, surrounded by exotic perfumes incased in exquisite cut glass and gold bottles, being lulled by gentle music and having your mind and senses led poetically through a beautiful path of perfumes until you reach your own perfect scent.

How I ever emerged from there alive and didn't just die of absoloute bliss I have no idea. Anyway, I was originally a devoted Jicky by Guerlain girl and have now realised that my soul should be bathed in Amazone by Hermes.

*sigh*

If all shopping were like that, I'd truly be it's biggest fan.

There is no bread

News reached my little home that the main road nearby was clear so I decided to make an epic treck out into the frozen north to see how far I could get.

Defrosting the vehicle is epic enough when covered in six inches of snow (yeah, snow that even my high heels can't lift me out of) but due to utter boredom from being stuck in the house I attacked it with enthusiasm and even gave a Westwood scarf it's first outing. I knew I was too enthused when I found myself sculpting the snow on the roof of the car into "a cute white hairstyle". Then I started to get a bit cold.

The snow was so thick on the sides of the car that when it came to doing the side nearest the fence I had to clear the snow in front of me in order to get to the rest of the car. During defrosting of wing mirrors my brave and worthy efforts were briefly interrupted by a typical blonde moment. I sprayed the de-icer in the wrong direction, and the shock of having my face de-iced caused me to fall backwards into the snow screaming, and consequently loose both the de-icer spray and the de-icing scraper thingumy object into the snow. ...I didn't discover that I'd lost them until I'd returned from de-de-icing myself inside the house. And getting into the house was difficult, covered in snow, freaking out, one eye shut against de-icer and charging at the door full force until to go splat against the window in discovery that I'd locked the door.

*sigh* Anyway, the car was de-iced and I set out enjoying the weird way my dear little ford fiesta moved trying to fight it's way through the thick snow. We found our way to a "clean" road with cheers and wonderment and set off at a dangerous 25mph in over excited enthusiasm. The ice at the first crossing slowed us down considerably. Reached the supermarket fine and parked wrecklessly in what I assumed was the disabled area (though I couldn't see through the snow, and that was my excuse for finally rebelling against half the car park being taken up with spaces that no-one uses). There were two other cars in the car park, thoroughly frozen and obviously belonging to staff.

There was no bread, (woohoo! justification of the bread maker I bought before xmas just in order to make the cinnamon roll recipe from Julie Anne's blog ), no fruit except for a teeny bunch of child size bananas, and no frozen chips that weren't in "microwavable boxes". In fact there was little or none of all the sensible items. Therefore I was totally excused for stocking up on double chocolate cheesecake, potato wedges, walkers crisps, Fry's Turkish Delight and the "expensive" italian food in the fridge department.

Tried to commiserate with a bloke in the bread department who was having a rather audible nervous breakdown because there was no bread to make his kids' breakfast with... wasn't successful. I had cleverly substituted bakewell tarts for breakfast food and was feeling smug about it.

Mother was stuck at her house with cupboards and freezers fit to bursting with food (she's a supermarket addict instead of a supermarket phobic like her daughter) but terribly distressed that her cats couldn't have wafer thin ham... so I was brave and bought a packet of dead animal for her cats.

The road wasn't clear to hers in any way. Abandonned the car before it got stuck and trekked up the hill past teenagers who were still enjoying knocking each other over into the snow, a man trying to clear his driveway with the aid of a shovel and a wheelbarrow, and various women opening the door just to take a picture of the frozen wasteland so that they could prove it had happened.

The flash bulbs were a bit of a shock in the snowy, lamplit darkness. You really don't expect paparazzi in Elland of an evening when everyone's snowed in. But I was prepared anyway in my Westwood "frozen weather ensemble" teamed with a coat which probably came from Matalan. ...if this weather continues, I shall consider investing in Pucci snowboots.

...and one of those Anglomania coats that looks like a douvet and will match the pattern on "The Precious" (see earlier post). If you're going to fall flat on your face in the snow, at least look cute while doing it and then any boys nearby will come to pick you up and dust you off. If you're lucky they'll help you carry your shopping home too. I learnt this while living in Liverpool where there was an excess of helpful young gentlemen tripping over themselves to aid a damsel in any form of distress so long as she looked stylish or was wearing a short skirt.

Anyway, got to mums with the provisions (handing over the last bunch of bananas in Elland cos she's addicted to the things) and managed to get my car going on a road where only wreckless fools would be stupid enough to change up into second gear. After a lot of revving and skating about I even got my car back up the drive withut bashing into either the fence, the house or the dustbin. Hurrah!

Now I must be going as I have double chocolate cheesecake and micro chips to eat.

The weather outside is frightful

I've been snowed in now since before Christmas. The only thing stopping me from going completely insane is that I can just about trek to my mother's once in a while with the aid of my snazzy new Viv Westwood wellies, a faux fur coat and the beautiful scarf, hat and gloves set I was given as a leaving present from a previous job.

I'm fed up of only being able to eat food I can grab at the near by "corner shop", my freezer will soon only yield ice lollies (I'm strangely off them at the moment) and I'm going stir crazy!!!!

The joy of wrapping up in a fluffy blanket, snuggled in front of the fire with the kitty cats and gazing out at the beautiful snow covered garden is long since gone. I can't bear to read another book as all the interesting ones are depressing as hell thanks to my belief that only angst makes a decent book truly worth reading. All the fun has gone out of my DVD collection now that I've watched the entire Pirates of the Caribbean Trilogy, both Bridget Jones films and laughed through Elf several times.

I can't even be bothered to do fabulous things with hair and make-up or play dress-up as the cats just don't appreciate how fabulous I look.

My collection of VHS and DVD is usually inexhaustable, but then I usually get to break it up with a bit of TV and some trips out of the house. Trips out of the house are pointless cos I can't really get anywhere, and the Christmas TV has been *abysmal*. The smattering of decent things they've shown have been repeated daily ad nauseum. But now that some of us are thoroughly stuck in the house I think a state of national emergency should be declared and daytime telly should be thrown aside for some nice decadent cheer-up telly.

I'd like some of those warm, beautiful, light-hearted comedies that only Italy of the 50s and 60s could yield. I think I would start with either Buona Sera Mrs.Campbell or Come September (which you can watch in it's entirity on youtube if you get there quick http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cb_xsOGMtiE )





Then something informative. I think some of David Starkey's programmes on the Tudors. During which, as per ritual, I will turn over briefly while Anne Boleyn is being murdered, sob audibly when Elizabeth looses Robert Dudley and yell excessively whenever anyone defies Elizabeth. Especially if they're Philip of Spain or Mary Queen of Scots. For Royalists like me, that channel will also show the film Mary Queen of Scots and Young Bess over the next days. Mary Queen of Scots only being shown because I thorougly enjoy every time Elizabeth outwits her and delight in Robert Dudley being injured by Elizabeth for daring to fancy her cousin.

From that very film, simpering childish ornament Mary compared with fiery ruler Elizabeth... where Mary's story is a tragedy of overpowering men and Elizabeth's story is a voctory of feminism. Hurrah! ...sorry, I get over enthused about Elizabeth. Never watch this film with me. I yell, jibe and cheer all the way through it.


Now a bit of comedy. Something a bit quirky I think. Eddie Izzard or Bill Bailey. We've been lacking in music thus far so let's go with Bill Bailey and his love song which is fabulous even though it mentions snow flakes and frozen ponds:


Or we could have his informative guide to the orchestra.. which includes this gem for Doctor Who fans:


And finally, some music. I think I'd go with The Beatles on Blackpool Night Out in 1965, starring John's fringe. It really is the highlight of this footage. Best Beatle of any Beatles footage I've ever seen. And I've seen a *lot* of Beatles films.



...I wonder what the chances are of getting the local olde worlde cinema down the road to show vintage movies? I could walk there. ...Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Help!, La Dolce Vita?

Expensive Fashion Pangs

Though there have been times when money has been so tight that we've had to share heinz tomato soup for one between two of us, my mother has brought me up with a love of quality in clothing. From the cabin trunk's worth of Nana's divine evening gowns in the loft, through mum's to-die-for shoe collection and the special childhood trips to a department store for a party dress when daddy was feeling a bit flush. I've worn beautiful childhood clothes until they really positively do not fit me anymore, taken them in to have them alterred into another outfit that will fit me, or worn a destroyed party dress as extravagant playing out clothes because I just refuse to part with it.

When I hit my decade long obsession with wearing nothing that wasn't from the 1960s I looked down upon offerings from Mary Quant for being badly made because I'd already been given a few season's collections of much better clothing that once belonged to my mother and Grandmother in the 60s.

I have a wardrobe full of evening gowns and go very over dressed to parties just to actually have the chance to wear some of them, and yet I am always seeing new things that I crave to own but will rarely get the chance to wear. ...these items are usually outrageously expensive too which plays dreadfully upon my knowledge that such sums of money are better spent on good causes.

I've been craving a Herve Leger bandage dress ever since I realised that they look better on women with curves than stick insect models, and that they do much better colour combinations than Victoria Beckham wears. The sight of them makes me sigh with desire and have to run off and eat quite a quantity of chocolate before the pain that I can't afford one becomes lessened.

The sight of this one will require more than a box of ferrero rochers to get over. It costs a mere $1050. Just think how many tins of cat food for abandonned kitty cats that would buy. I shall have to drop some more boxes of cat food into the animal rescue donation bin next to I go food shopping. That'll make me feel a bit better.

*insert wistfull sigh here, followed by the sound of gold foil being unwrapped*

These ones I can't sigh over too much, because they're made out of dead cows and that means they can never have wardrobe space in my home. But they *look* divine. And would be divine if they were vegan. As if the pain that Manolos and Louboutins only come in leather isn't enough, Alexander McQueen has to give me shoe pangs too. £525 worth of exquisitely crafted dead animal skin: Thankfully Madame Westwood now collaborates with the vegan planet saving shoe makers at Melissa on some of her footwear. Therefore the sight of the the dead cow booties can be lessened by putting on my candy scented elevated three strap Westwood heels which are all the more wondrous for being made in rubber as the style of them suggests the sort of mistress who will require wipe down fashion.

While I'm whining about McQueen that I can't afford and can't give wardrobe space to due to silkworm guilt, cow guilt and assorted cute fluffy animal guilt, here are sme other delectable items that I've been admiring for so long that I've forgotten which season they're from:

£3876 of goddess worthy embroidered silk:

£484 of screamingly neon pink leather:£1885 of silver screen starlet style woolen warmth:

£2892 of silk formed into the ultimate "you couldn't afford me" kaftan:

£1732 of draped silk chiffon that you can't possibly walk in:

£944 of silk that deserves to be in an episode of Poirot:

And the most cravable £1972 of silk formed into McQueen's Kimono dégradé mini dress:Finally Mr McQueen made something that doesn't involve the death of an animal, so I have no way of not desiring it. It is bizarrely a pleated skirt that's so perfect that it refuses to ever go out of fashion. Thankfully all £494 worth of it is now out of stock everywhere so I'm safe. *sigh*

Now I need to go sit for a while eating chocolate while wearing my Westwood heels and hugging "The Precious". The Precious is my newest Westwood aquisition.



I'm not usually into these bulky bags, being more of a 50s/60s box bag kind of a girl. And I have more Marilyn Monroe handbags than is at all sensible. ...but when I saw the huuuuge red tartan quilted Anglomania handbag with squiggle print stitching in the Westwood store in Leeds, dear Charley nearly had to carry me out on a stretcher. I was convinced it would be trimmed with leather but still looked it up on the internet so that I could drool at the image of it. Wondrously, it was trimmed in gloriously Westwood styled PVC and I wanted it. On return to the store with Charley (to buy Pirate boots) the huuuge bag I had seen was now sold out but there was a much more usable miniature version complete with quirky little rosette and orb engraved gold fittings left alone on the shelf. The shop assistants had to coax me gently in order to prise it from my fingers so that we could go try on boots downstairs.

Thus far it has only had a couple of outings, during which I clung to it in fear it would get hurt in some way. It now usually resides in it's own super soft Westwood dust bag awaiting another outing... but I fetch it out to hug it and examine it and generalyl love it lots. It's my new teddy bear really. "The Precious".