This is the time for demure ivory dresses with eyelet detailing, sexy oversized men’s shirts like the ones the supermodels wore in Peter Lindbergh’s iconic beach snap, and high waisted white palazzo pants paired with wedges and stacks of gold bangles. This is the time for white.
“I have to be seen to be believed,” the Queen once famously said. HRH was unmissable yesterday, donning neon lime green to Trooping The Colour. Not every 90-year-old has the chutzpah, poise and purpose to pull off such a high-wattage hue. But the Queen has all, in carriage-loads.
Ask my children what their Mama’s favourite colour is and they’ll say, “every colour of the rainbow, except brown and purple. She doesn’t like brown and purple.” The truth is, I do like like lilacs and plums. Amethysts are beautiful, and so are aubergines. I adore wisteria. Iridescent purple wrapping paper is pretty cool, too. With respect to Prince, I’m just not a fan of “purple rain” purple. But I loved the way it looked on him. And I love the way it looks on the women in this Deborah Turbeville photograph. It’s just not for me. As for brown, if it weren’t for brown diamonds (and chocolate) I’d have nothing good to say about it.
“A little bad taste is like a nice splash of paprika,” said Diana Vreeland. “We all need a splash of bad taste –– it’s hearty, it’s healthy, it’s physical. I think we could use more of it. No taste is what I’m against.” With pieces from Vivienne Westwood, Stephen Jones, Elsa Sciaparelli and Pam Hogg on display, The Barbican gallery will showcase an exhibition this Autumn dedicated to vulgarity in fashion from the renaissance to the present day. A romp through hundreds of years of gaudy, audacious, daring, flamboyant fashion sounds like my idea of brilliant fun. “Playing with juxtapositions, different themes and vistas, they’ve (the exhibition is co-conceived by Judith Clark and psychoanalyst Adam Phillips) set the stage for visitors to wonder, ponder, question, reflect or just revel in why some costumes are considered vulgar, and how that changes through time, context and experience,” said Jane Alison, The Barbican’s head of visual arts. If I don’t make it to the exhibition, I’m sure my Mum will. Wearing a Pucci silk blouse and a zebra print runners, no doubt.
I never wore a uniform, but my school did insist on a straw boater in the summer months and a bobble hat in the winter ones. The wooley hat –– with its big red bobble –– was an embarrassment, but I did rather love the boater. Last week, I saw a charming one at Holt Renfrew complete with pale blue ribbon and tiny silk flowers. I like the idea of wearing a boater again. Only this time around, I get to wear it with lipstick.
How different Toronto looks when the trees have their foliage back. Even our scrappy little garden is a veritable jungle, with hostas, hydrangeas and lilacs, galore. This is Steven Meisel’s work, shot years ago with Grace Coddington for Vogue. Minus the glamour, the green and texture reminds me of my garden.
I’m a big fan of polka dots –the more the merrier. Last week, I wore black trousers covered in white dots with a white blouse splattered with blue and orange ones to my pottery class. Coincidentally, I had decided to glaze a pinch pot with blue polka dots. “She’s the polka dot girl,” called out our teacher, Celia, in her thick Brazilian accent. I’m delighted by the nickname, and I’ve since covered two more pots in big blue splodges.
The most beautiful scene in The First Monday in May, a documentary that chronicles the planning and execution of the Met’s annual exhibition and gala benefit, comes towards the end, when chief curator, Andrew Bolton is seen meticulously adjusting the hem of a dress. His perfectionism and utter reverence for fashion shines through beautifully in this one poignant moment. With the film fresh in my mind, I’ve been scrolling through gown upon gown from last night’s Manus & Machina themed bash, looking for the dress of my own fantasies. It was the Prabal Gurung worn by Sylvana Ward Durrett, Vogue’s director of special events (she features in and co-produced the Rossi Documentary) that truly wowed me. I also think Lauren Santo Domingo nailed it with this sensational Giambattista Valli I’ve never been to an exhibition at the The Costume Institute, and while this year’s theme doesn’t excite me as much as others, the film, and Andrew Bolton’s brilliance, inspires me to sprint to the Met.
I love walking through the Burlington Arcade, and I have no idea how I missed Zoe Bradley‘s huge paper chandeliers when I was in London last summer. Was I too focused on the vintage diamonds to notice? Were my Mum and I so engrossed in our gossip that 1,860 paper flowers in every colour of the rainbow escaped our attention? For a person whose eye darts to the tiniest tourmaline in your left earlobe, and the freckles underneath your chin, I’m amazed and disappointed to have missed these enormous bouquets!
The clothes of eco-friendly designer, Olya Glagoleva are wearable works of art. Made in collaboration with artist Lisa Smirnova, her intricately embroidered tops and dresses would be as at home on a wall as they would be on a woman’s body. Some pieces, made from recycled denim, organic cotton and cashmere, take up to 100-hours of to make. This smock is part of her Artist at Home collection and with its lightweight cotton, and quirky hand-embroidered creatures, it’s just the sort of thing I would live in. As for the jeans, my kids need to get to work on mine.
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