Tim Burton's Trick & Treats

~~~



HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

EDITORIAL: Tim Burton's Trick & Treats
PHOTOGRAPHER: Tim Walker
MODELS: Malgosia Bela, Evelina Mambetova and Sophie Srej




























LARGER IMAGES
{Click thumbnails to enlarge.}






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Shopping For Halloween Decorations

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Nate, Karen and I went shopping for Halloween decorations (with a few personal shopping detours) at Arab Street, Muscat Street and Haji Lane. Karen's pretty crafty - in the artsy sense of the word, so we mostly bought yards of cloth and crepe paper for her to construct our party decor. I have no idea what they'll look like...










































On Haji Lane, we encountered the Google Street View cameras, mounted on a bike. I thought it made a striking image - something as monumentally modern as Google Street View cams staged upon a humble bicycle, and juxtaposed with the old, kitschy shophouses along the street. I suppose somewhere out there in the future, images of us traipsing along Haji Lane might pop up on Google Street View. Mildly creepy?












Yes, that's right.
A halal Swedish cafe and bistro.
Curiosity got the better of us, so of course, we had to go in and sample some of their homemade peach tea and swedish pancakes with jam and cream.




Our waiter - the man in black - was not Swedish at all (he was Australian) but a very Swedish-looking blonde haired, blue eyed child was playing on a wooden rocking horse when we entered.

Later, a bunch of women, one of whom was definitely a Swede, came into the cafe and sat at the next table. She told us that 'Fika' - the name of the cafe - is a Swedish word that means 'to drink coffee'.







Bonus Picture



The 'Talk Cock Sing Song' karaoke pub along Upper Thomson Road.
I took a picture of it on my way home.

Curiouser And Curiouser

~~~




EDITORIAL: Curiouser And Curiouser
MAGAZINE: Vogue UK (Feb 2007)
PHOTOGRAPHER: Tim Walker
MODEL: Coco Rocha

The above is my favourite Alexander McQueen dress of all time, worn by my favourite model, in one of my favourite Vogue editorials (named after a line from one of my favourite books), photographed by one of my favourite photographers. So... it's pretty damn epic.

Here's the gown's original debut on
Alexander McQueen's Spring 2007 runway:



It reminds me of a goddess of sorts, rising from the fluffy clouds,
like some Venus on a half shell. Peter Ustinov once said that if
Botticelli were alive today, he'd be working for Vogue.


And here are a few other amazing pictures from the editorial:

















THE ENTIRE EDITORIAL:

{Click on thumbnails to enlarge.}









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On a random, entirely unrelated note, I just watched the Beverly Hills 90210 theme song from the original series in the 90s, and marvelled at how I used to think these characters were the best dressed humans to grace the good earth. Once upon a time, long before I looked to Jane Birkin, Françoise Hardy and Audrey Hepburn for hair inspiration, the holy trinity consisted of Daphne from Scooby Doo, Ariel the Little Mermaid and Brenda Walsh of Beverly Hills 90210 - my paragons of good hair (I was very, very young at this time, as you might have gathered). Because of this, I think I've always carried a soft spot for Shannen Doherty, regardless of her professional or tabloid failings. She was Brenda bloody Walsh! There was an era, long, long ago, in a distant land, far, far away, when I wanted to BE Brenda Walsh and date Dylan McKay. How embarrassing. Anyway...



Even now, I still catch myself punching the air twice at the beginning, when Jason Priestley does it. How catchy is that theme song? How bad are those clothes? Which brings me back to my original point. Upon observing just how dreadful the wardrobe choices were, and remembering exactly how they looked through my 1990s-coloured glasses (Brilliant! Stylish! Amazing! En pointe!), it doesn't make me question my past fashion sense as much as it makes me consider how much taste is subconsciously shaped by popular culture, even when we don't actively seek to imitate. I didn't like those 90210 duds because they were trendy; I was probably too young to even understand what trends meant. In all honesty, my young mind believed that those clothes were fetching, and even flattering to the figure (I now see that in most cases, I was mistaken). But of course, it's all subjective. What I consider flattering to the figure now might very well change in a decade's time, not just because fashion changes, but because popular opinion about a woman's figure and what should be concealed and emphasised will also evolve. Few of us make the conscious shift of personal opinion to mirror the popular one, but even the most rebellious of us eventually do, and will come to sit at their blogs like I am right now, wondering when and how the hell it happened - half feeling grateful it did, and half like a brainwashed bot, swept away (or drowned under) a riptide of change with little choice in the matter... because it all seemed to happen like we were Rip Van Winkle, suddenly awakening in a new era after a deep night's sleep, when it was really a hundred years. Or a decade.

People speak of 'objective beauty' or of being 'objectively stylish', but how can either of those things exist, unless governed by the zeitgeist of a particular era? I remember when amazonian bombshells were all the rage when I was growing up - Cindy Crawford, Claudia Schiffer, Naomi Campbell and anyone who was ever in a cheesy Guess ad, with their face splashed across the paper bags. Then, the time for models was over, and the profession was reduced to little more than a line of obscure, walking clothes hangers, validated only by a handful of die-hard fashion fanatics (perhaps am guilty as charged). Now, we live in an era of Jessica Albas, Jessica Biels, Scarlett Johanssons, Rihannas and Megan Foxes. THE CURRENT IDEAL: 5'5" to 5'8" in height, a pretty face with a modicum of sex appeal, a toned figure but not too muscular, very very slim, yet miraculously possessed of sizable breasts, and a pert butt achievable only with the aid of a personal trainer and/or an unholy workout regime. What is judged 'flattering' to a woman by way of their garments is usually measured by the clothing's ability to transport the woman closer to the 'ideal' of that era, whether it's a Hervé Léger dress that gives the impression of impressive mammaries, maxi skirts that conceal wobbly thighs that haven't seen the light of a gym, 5-inch Givenchy heels that propel a petite girl into the ideal height range and saves her trousers from grazing the floor, Lanvin flats for the tall girl who exceeds the ideal height and risks appearing mannish or a giant, slimming colours for the obese, loosely figure-skimming blouses for the excessively thin and bony, etc.

Sometimes, I look at a few of the more classic fashion designs from the current decade (say, bits and bobs from Chanel, Lanvin or Burberry Prorsum, as opposed to something trendy that dropped from Balmain), and find it nearly impossible to imagine how they could be cast in an embarrassing light... say, 20 years from now. But the 'ideal woman' will have changed, and so clothing will aspire to transform its wearer into something quite different from what is ideal now. Perhaps that will render unappealing what we currently find attractive about certain garments, more so than any other factor, and through no fault of the design.

Halloween Costumes & Recent Vintage Finds

~~~

Nate, Karen and I are throwing a Halloween party this year, and I was attempting to dream up a costume earlier on - one that wouldn't be too much trouble to put together, as I don't really have the time (or energy) right now to scamper around town, hunting down costume pieces. I had narrowed it down to the following choices:

1. Karl Lagerfeld
2. Anna Wintour
3. Dorothy (Wizard of Oz)
4. Margot Tenenbaum (The Royal Tenenbaums)
5. Maggie Cheung (in In The Mood For Love)
6. Bonnie (Bonnie & Clyde)
7. Betty Draper or Joan Holloway (Mad Men)
8. Daphne (Scooby Doo)
9. Minnie Mouse
10. She-Ra Princess of Power
11. Mona Lisa
12. A Tim Tam
13. Miss Scarlet (from the board game, Clue - murderously clutching a candlestick or a revolver, of course.)


I was most enthusiastic about being Karl Lagerfeld, and had even considered where I could possibly procure fingerless leather gloves (they are as native to Singapore as a fat model on Hedi Slimane's runway), to go with my Dior Homme-esque black blazer jacket, skinny black pants, Karl's trademark black sunglasses and token can of Pepsi Max in one hand. Aside from the fingerless leather glove issue, there was also the hassle of procuring a white wig styled in Karl's hairdo, and a bevy of supermodels drowning in Chanel to flank me.

Then, I looked in my wardrobe and promptly decided to be Minnie Mouse instead. Since I'm going for fuss-free and low-hassle this year, it just so happens that the Minnie costume will be the easiest to put together. I don't know if I should be worried that of all the aforementioned costume ideas, Minnie Mouse was the one I already had all the requisite pieces for in my closet. This includes the black mouse ears and red polka dotted bow.

I may have to re-evaluate my wardrobe at some point.


Part of me almost wishes I could go as Miss Scarlet, if only so I can wear something like this 1950s red and black lace swing dress:





Heyjetaime on Polyvore put together an awesome
Miss Scarlet ensemble using the dress above):






Anumagine also used it in a lovely Polyvore collage:






~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There aren't many good vintage boutiques in Singapore, so I usually resort to trawling Ebay for my fix. Below are some of my favourite internet finds from the past year:

MEREDITH: Apathy kills, Hank.
HANK: I don't care...

.

Addison Gill for Under.ligne by Doo.ri + Vintage Car Editorial

~~~

ADDISON GILL
for Under.ligne by Doo.ri

I like the fresh simplicity of these pictures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE CHIC AND THE CARS
Editorial

MAGAZINE: Vogue Gioiello (Sept-Oct 09)
PHOTOGRAPHERS: Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello

I think Frida Gustavsson stole the show from the other two models.
It's not an epic editorial but I do love the styling and the cars.
I have to say, the pictures also look a whole lot better when enlarged!

{Click on pictures to enlarge.}

Recent Outfits

~~~
Random photos of recent outfits...





PETER PAN COLLAR NAUTICAL SHIRT - Vintage
CASHMERE CARDIGAN - J.Crew
BLACK SHORTS - Ralph Lauren
TIGHTS - Marks & Spencer
BUCKET HAT - Vintage
BAG - Chanel (vintage, circa 1980s)






HAIR FLOWERS - Boutique in Brunswick Street (Melbourne, Australia)
TOP - Paul & Joe
The top actually has an interesting pin-up girl print.
I'll need to take better pictures of it another day.




FLORAL DRESS - Bysi
LEATHER BELT - Vintage
BASKET BAG - From a friend
GLADIATOR SANDALS - Nine West

Vintage Flight Attendants & Old Travel Log

~~~




I love looking at vintage pictures of flight attendants in the 50s, 60s and 70s. Okay... maybe not so much the 70s (it is clear that designers then were on an assortment of psychedelic drugs). But in those decades of aviation, flight attendant uniforms had a distinctive charm lacking in a lot of the ones used by airlines today - most of which make modern day cabin crews look like corporate minions working at a bank. I like how a lot of the vintage uniforms had a sense of playfulness that made flying look like fun... even though it really isn't. Good lord, I hate flying.





































































Zooey Deschanel as a flight attendant in Almost Famous.



This oedipal advertisement is hilarious and disturbing all at the same time. I love how they have the slogan, "think of her as your mother", juxtaposed with a mature lady striking a kittenish, come-hither pose. Yes, do fly American Airlines, and stand a chance to meet the mother you always wanted to shag. The best part? The text finishes off with, "That's the American Way."





















This ad was for a Russian airline. Clearly, it was popular to hitch rides on airplanes in which flight attendants brandish what looks like a gun.




Yet another hilarious ad.
Everyone wants to fly an airline with pilots that tuck you into bed
instead of say... sitting in the cockpit and FLYING THE PLANE?


Air Pornstache.




Airline Passenger Certificates were issued by early
airline companies for crossing the ocean in a plane.





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Old Travel Log

I was skimming though entries in my old Livejournal earlier today and chanced upon my blogging of a trip to Canada I made while I was still living in Melbourne, Australia. More accurately, I was blogging about my flights to Vancouver - a journey that took me nearly 2 days in flight time and transits. First, I flew from Melbourne to Singapore, followed by a 6 hour transit (during which I popped back home to say hello to my dog and grandma before rushing back to the airport for my next flight). Then, I flew from Singapore to Hong Kong, and had another 3 hour transit. Finally, I flew from Hong Kong to Vancouver... and had to wait 10 hours for the rest of my family to join me at the airport. They were flying there from Colorado, USA, on a different flight, during which the airline managed to lose all their luggage.

Anyway, the Livejournal posts I made while in transit and mid-flight (this trip was taken during the period Singapore Airlines had wireless internet on board their planes) amused me quite a bit in a semi-nostalgic way, so I decided to re-post them.


December 16, 2005 • 7:56 pm
Am currently a hundred miles up in the air, en route to Singapore from Melbourne, and I just flew past Ayers Rock. Now I can claim to have actually seen it. Yes, that is correct. I am in an airplane, surfing the internet, updating Livejournal on my laptop, drinking chardonnay and checking out famous geological wonders in the middle of the Australian desert below me. Aside from the fact that I am a claustrophobic stuck in an airborne death capsule with no parachute and the Dharma Initiative on my mind, life sort of rules right now. Not going to lie.

Wireless satellite internet! When did our planes get so swish? No one is on AIM right now, which is mildly depressing, but I'm lining up movies on my KrisWorld TV set. Let's see... Les Temps Qui Changent, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Je Préfère Qu'on Reste Amis. Also, might I add that they finally installed rewind and fast forwarding buttons on the remote controls.

God bless Singapore Airlines.


December 17, 2005 • 12:21 am
Just landed in Singapore. Have discovered house still has internet. Have also discovered existance of black feather boa I have no recollection of owning. Why do I own a feather boa? Cannot remember ever having been drag queen. Seriously beginning to doubt either memory or past fashion sense.

My dog still loves me. I like that he hasn't seen me in a year and still remembers me, but fails to remember anything he learned in puppy obedience school. The weather here is death. I feel like I'm in the crater of a Hawaiian volcano, drowning in molten lava. Have already taken 2 showers in the 2.5 hours I've been here. Beginning to suspect that my lack of vertical growth in childhood was due to having spent life here melting away critical body mass that could have possibly contributed to greater height.

Earlier, I was screened by airport security officials who were picking on anyone who looked under the age of 50 as we are all obviously a generation of drug traffickers and/or terrorists, whereas grey hairs and gravity-bound breasts denote an inability to commit crimes. Conveniently, I forgot to traffic any heroin or nuclear warheads, so I was let off the hook after two male officers molested my luggage and rummaged through my tampons. No, not embarrassing at all.

I mean, really. While I do understand how certain feminine hygiene products might be mistaken for Taliban missiles when baggage goes through the X-Ray scan... no wait, I don't.

Now that I've cuddled my dog and said hello to Grandma, a nap on my own bed sounds delightful but I must dash back to the airport in couple of hours to catch my plane to Hong Kong, then yet another plane to Vancouver. Will not be surprised if I end up spending more of my holiday on planes than in actual countries.


December 17, 2005 • 2:23 pm
Suspect entire planet, except city of Melbourne, has been hooked up with free wireless internet access for all and sundry. Either that or have been living under large rock for past year.

Am currently in Hong Kong at the airport (which has wireless internet EVERYWHERE. Come on, Melbourne. Pick up the slack.), waiting in transit for my plane to Canada. Have just visited the duty free Chanel and Gucci, only to buy large box of gourmet chocolate kisses from the chocolatier, as have decided that expensive though they be, I will still have more money for shopping in Vancouver than if I had bought any product from aforementioned shops. Plus, am jet-lagged and tired, and need the sweet love and comfort only quality confectionary can give.

My Idiot's Guide to 48-Hour Non-Stop Travelling:

1. Have sunglasses the size of mother Russia for the sole purpose of covering eyebags, bloodshot eyes, tired skin, badly applied make-up during turbulance on airplane, and as much of one's sleepy face as humanly possible. Would suggest balaclava instead, but being mistaken for a hijacker might potentially ruin travel plans and result in three-star prison tours.

2. Pretend to be someone important - preferably a movie star, jet-setting socialite, owner of oil field (or daughter, if look young), minor aristocrat or President of small country. Declaration of aforementioned false occupation not necessary, as one's main goal is to simply look important. Smile benevolently at all airport personnel and aircraft crew, and speak as if raised by the BBC. Service instantly better, customs officials deem it unnecessary to search for hidden biological weapons in purse, and get upgraded to higher class of airplane seats when minor complaint about current seat is politely lodged (while it is important to dress comfortably for one's flight, it is more important to note that one never gets upgraded when dressed like a homeless person. Remember, Business Class and First Class is comfortable no matter what you are wearing.).

3. Have laptop. Wireless internet will travel.

4. Always, always, ALWAYS secure emergency exit seats. In the event of an emergency, not only will you be the first to exit... in the event of no emergencies, you will also have more leg room than the average passenger seated behind you, contracting Economy Class Syndrome and dying of blood clots. These exit seats are extremely hard to secure, as they are desirable to everyone except the oil sheiks already travelling in First Class. But these days, most airlines have a website where you can check-in early, up to 48 hours beforehand. Do not leave it up to fate. Lie in wait on the internet 49 hours beforehand, and pray that your high-speed DSL connection is faster than the shmucks lurking behind their computer monitors, conspiring to steal your emergency seats from under your very nose.

Am currently perched opposite the strangest airport smoking lounge I've ever encountered. Smokers sit on barstools along swanky marble-top bar counters equipped with what appears to be in-built silver champagne buckets in front of each person. This makes little sense as there are no drinks being sold or served but upon closer examination, the champagne buckets are actually ash trays. Businessmen in suits also lounge in office chairs around a large conference table in another corner of the room, which is made entirely of glass walls. The conference table is laden with silver dishes (also secretly ashtrays), and from a distance, one could be forgiven for thinking the men were dining on cheese platters while discussing their stock market portfolios.

Amazing.


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It seems that by the time I actually reached Vancouver, nearly 48 hours after I'd departed Melbourne, I was too tired to make a final blog post about the final leg of my journey. But I did make another entry while up in Whistler...

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December 23, 2005 • 6:49 pm
Here is a bad Christmas joke:

Darth Vader: Luke, I know what you are getting for Christmas this year.
Luke Skywalker: How do you know, Darth Vader?
Darth Vader: I have felt your presents in the force.

Dad gave me my Christmas present today. Am now the proud owner of a sleek, feather-light, matte black snowboarding helmet, a pair of raspberry-coloured waterproof Helly Hansen ski pants, and a white Helly Hansen ski jacket with raspberry zips and lining, plush satin inner quilting in ruby red, and an inner-jacket compartment for an iPod. Am ecstatic as my current Sierra Tek ski suit, as much as j'adore it, is five years old and its waterproofing is shot to hell. Have been drenched like a sewer rat every time it rained or snowed on the slopes this trip. Waterproof, my arse.

Am currently up in Whistler in our ski lodge, surrounded by snow. It is very Christmasy and all I want to do is drink hot chocolate by the fireplace while listening to Louis Armstrong and Nat King Cole sing carols. Weather is shit. It's been raining cats, dogs and Canadian elks all week long. Needless to say, this is awful for skiing/snowboarding as the snow on slopes turns to slush. What I'd give for some fresh powder...

Have not skiied at all so far, as I've been meaning to pick up snowboarding for years, but have only managed to ride for two lousy, stinking days thanks to l'abominable weather. I've never snowboarded before, so my brother and I hired an instructor named Pete Goodman (whom we renamed Pete Good Times). Am still rubbish at snowboarding but I like it almost as much as skiing now. Picked it up semi-quickly coz I've wakeboarded for years and the concept is similar. Like wakeboarding, my starting foot is goofy, not regular. Can now do fakies, reverts and ollies but that's about it hahah. Oh, self. How much do you suck? It will probably be another 900 years before I get anywhere near a half-pipe.

Am also suffering from INTENSE ski envy. Everytime we hit a treacherous slope, I spend half my time doing faceplants (which I wish was some nifty snowboarding stunt, so I'd be able to claim I am fantastic at it. Because I am.). And while I was faceplanting, biting the dust, wiping out, eating snow (insert other words that sound like snowboarding tricks but that actually mean I fell down alot) and so forth, skiiers would zoom past easy-peasy and I'd wish I had a trusty pair of old Salomon X-Scream skis strapped to my back so I could ditch the snowboard and whizz down slopes that would have been a breeze for me on skis, but might as well have been a vertical incline with a snowboard on my feet. My arse hurts from falling on it every five minutes.

Soon, we'll be off to Hong Kong for Christmas.

Kate Moss by Ellen von Unwerth (Glamour Italia 1992), and Mad Men Charleston Dancing

~~~




MAGAZINE: Glamour Italia, 1992
EDITORIAL: Charming Lolita
PHOTOGRAPHER: Ellen von Unwerth
MODEL: Kate Moss

















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I meant to include this video in my last Mad Men post but completely forgot. This has to be one of my favourite Pete Campbell scenes: Pete and Trudy dancing the Charleston.




.

Mad Men Fashion

~~~



I thought I'd do a blog post on the wonderful early 1960s clothing worn by the characters in Mad Men. Not going to lie - the wardrobe eye candy was one of the primary things that galvanised me into watching every episode of the show some time ago (that and the concept, which is just the sort of thing that fascinates me). Jon Hamm, Vincent Kartheiser, Elisabeth Moss and Christina Hendricks are also wonderfully magnetic on screen. I can never tire of watching them, despite what a slimey sleazeball Vincent's character is.

Anyway, on to the costumes, starting with the women...


Betty Draper
Betty is probably one of my least favourite characters. After watching both Dexter and Mad Men, I've come to the conclusion that if a show's protagonist is an emotionally disconnected man with a secret past, I will inevitably come to loathe his blonde, suburban, needy wife. However, January Jones is really beautiful woman with a very Grace Kelly-esque vibe, and her wardrobe on Mad Men is the one I love the most.



































Betty's blue dress isn't really vintage as it was designed and created by the show's Costume Designer for this particular episode. I think in real life, it would be too much, but it worked in the context of the scene, and added a really striking pop of colour.













I love this shade of blue and in general, I still think it's a great style of coat, but it only works on taller women who won't drown in the baggy shapelessness.












The great thing about this look - the cashmere coat, sweater, pearls, Hermes-esque scarf (it isn't actually Hermes but looks it) - is that it's so classic that many of the women who wore this style in the 60s still dress like that now. Stylish grandmas you hope to one day be.







Janie Bryant, the Costume Designer, calls this dress Betty's 'Sad Clown Dress', which I think is quite adorable.














Bobbie Barrett
She's such a larger-than-life character and her style always has a sense of drama that mirrors that. Although she isn't part of the main cast, I enjoyed a lot of what she wore during her limited screen time... except maybe the leopard prints, which I always find tacky and cheap looking (though they did suit her character extremely well). I left those out of this post.





Her clothes here - the hat and furry collar - create a beautiful, dramatic silhouette, so even though the details aren't apparent, I felt like I had to include this image.







Joan Holloway
Unfortunately, we usually see Joan in her Sterling Cooper office environment, so what she wears is rather corporate. The costume department managed to squeeze in a number of very stylish outfits anyway, and Christina Hendricks - who I think is one of the most beautiful women on television right now - has the perfect hourglass figure to pull off a lot of these early 60s cuts and silhouettes, which tend to be more mature and womanly than the characters' actual ages.









The harlequin-print handbag is probably my favourite part of this outfit, along with the brooch.




The way the purple set off her fair skin and red hair was perfect. I wish they had more outfits of this colour for Joan.

















Not a great dress, but a great blue, nonetheless.






Although I'm not the biggest fan of prints, I'm a fan of how they worked the print of the dress with the print of Joan's scarf here. Her gold brooches seem to be one of her trademarks and it really completes this outfit.





The black bow headband seemed unusually girlish for Joan, but I thought it was cute.









Peggy Olson
Peggy is not the biggest fashion plate on Mad Men. A lot of what she wears is awful, in keeping with her character, who seems entirely unaware of how to dress in a flattering manner. Peggy is the overgrown schoolgirl to Joan's womanly woman - a schoolgirl possibly dressed by a blind nun. But she's had a few decent pieces here and there - even if it's just a cute detail on an otherwise undesirable outfit. Her third season wardrobe has probably been the best thus far.








I think both Peggy and Kurt look great here. He's the show's resident stylish out-and-proud gay man. His jacket, set off by his neutral sweater and pants, is perfect, and I like how their outfits compliment one another, with Peggy's dress lending a sprinkle of red to liven the picture.




This isn't so much a style picture as it is a funny one. It's my favourite still from the scene where Kurt gives Peggy a makeover and snips off her entire ponytail after she permits him to cut off only a little. The look on their faces is priceless.




This is one of my favourite Peggy dresses. It's very sombre and grey but I thought it was significant in its context - a reflection of Peggy rising up the corporate ladder and dressing more like her male colleagues who favour suits in grey and other dark colours.


























I liked the heart-shaped buttons on that sweater even
though the fit wasn't perfect.
















The three female leads: Peggy, Joan and Betty.






Other Women


Anna Draper, wearing my favourite dress of hers.


Betty and her Junior League friend, who's wearing an amazing green dress with a floral print.




Jennifer Crane and Harry Crane


Trudy Campbell


Peggy, Pete Campbell and Trudy Campbell


Trudy and Pete Campbell




Paul Kinsey and Sheila


Paul Kinsey, Sheila and Joan Holloway


Midge and Roy




1960s Air Stewardesses


Voiceover Actresses


Kitty Romano with Sal and Ken.




The men of Mad Men also have fantastic, if less varied, wardrobes.


Don Draper


Roger Sterling and Don Draper


I love that the men of the early 60s all wore hats.












Roger Sterling



Am liking Roger's tie - a textured, subtle shade of silver against his white shirt.







Roger with Eleanor and Mirabelle - twins wearing matching but not identical dresses.







Pete Campbell










The Office Crew


Harry Crane, Paul Kinsey, Pete Campbell, Ken Cosgrove and Salvatore Romano











Sal is always impeccably attired.







Aside from Don, it's rare to see the Mad Men outside their office setting, so I love how Sal and Ken aren't in their corporate garb for once. Their suits here are two of my favourites - especially Ken's.



Smitty


Jeffrey the drug dealer.

Valentino Haute Couture 2009

~~~



I'm a bit late blogging about this, and I blame it on my extreme laziness between July and August. However, browsing through The Fashion Spot, I chanced upon a picture of Frida Gustavsson in a gorgeous black Valentino from the 2009 Haute Couture collection, and was reminded once again how much I love it. All of it. The whole damn collection.

This Valentino show received so much hate, if I remember. Ever since Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pier Paolo Piccioli took over the design house from Valentino himself, they've been verbally abused on every fashion forum I've visited on the internet, and this collection was no exception. People said it 'wasn't Valentino enough'. It was too Alexander McQueen, too Lanvin, too Prada, or a sorry amalgamation of all the above. I care not.

Blasphemous as this might sound, the 'real' Valentino (not to imply that Chiuri and Piccioli are 'fake' Valentinos, you understand) never did all that much for me. I didn't dislike his couture confections, but they didn't send me over the moon either. Every runway show - haute couture or prêt-à-porter - just felt like a pleasantly pretty parade with lots of build-up and no culmination. On the other hand, I adore McQueen, Lanvin and Prada, so even if this collection felt like a rip-off of other designers, it wasn't the usual, predictable Valentino fare, nor was it a re-hash of the entire Valentino archive, like the last ready-to-wear show was. After taking away the word 'Valentino' and the naff comparisons, and just looking at the clothes for what they were... well, I liked what I saw.





The designers said they wanted to create 'a new shade of black', and although that's quite impossible, literally speaking, their approach to colour produced a collection that was extremely dark without being so black that it's boring. It wasn't flat. The fabrics were layered - sheer black over nude tones - to spawn shadowy webs and ripples. Lace, tulle, ruffles and feather-light sheer panels were draped so effectively that they never felt heavy (a trap black clothing tends to fall into).

I really loved how the whole collection read like a dark masquerade romance - very pretty but not cloying; floaty yet intense. The masks were a nice touch.

Up close, in some of the HQ photographs I found (far too large to post on this blog, as each image is several megabytes in size), the workmanship was so exquisite, precise and impeccable that I think pictures alone don't do the dresses much justice. One would probably have to view them in person to fully appreciate the subtle craftsmanship that went into all the pieces.


Vogue Italia featured the Valentino Haute Couture
dresses in their September 2009 issue:

(Click thumbnails to enlarge.)




PHOTOGRAPHERS: Sofia and Mauro
MODELS: Gwen Loos, Hanna Rundlof and
Frida Gustavsson (who also opened the runway show)


Here are more pictures from the runway:























































The shoes remind me a little of Hermes (the Greek God with winged feet, not the brand).

Hosting at Vivo City

~~~

Some photographs from a Nokia and Starhub show I hosted for a week in August...









This was basically a computer shaped like a giant Nokia phone.






Looking really attractive.
That eyes-half-closed pose is always fetching.








Sometimes, I don't understand why people tell me I need to get a tan. Then I see the evidence...








It was the birthday of this dude, whose name I don't know, and who I will probably never see again. He and his friends were going around Vivo City with the goal to get photographs of him with 25 girls.

I... don't know why.
Anyway, I tried to evade him but then wound up having to interview/question him because he was an unsuspecting victim (slash easy target) and I had about 180 prizes to give away. So he wound up getting the picture but I maintain this was cheating.




This man is obviously really keen on winning a prize.
Love that enthusiasm.










That's MJ, the show's DJ.












Lunch breaks at Coffee Bean, just chatting on AIM with Meghan.




Another lunch break with my caramel macchiato cake.






Fooling around on Photobooth with MJ during yet another break...

















The sun through the skylight was brutal.
Wish I was kidding.
I thought I was going to get burnt.
The sun rays make for a pretty sweet photo, though.

















Chocolate lava cake.




Dear Starbucks,
When I order a Caramel Frappucino with Extra, Extra, Extra, Extra, Extra Caramel Drizzle at the top, THIS is what I mean. Praise to the one man who actually got it right.

Love,
Natalie


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


On another day, I went for lunch at a Chinese restaurant with the extended paternal family.



Mum, Brother and I.




Brother, Aunt Carol, Me and Mum.




Aunt Carol, Grandma Suzie, Brother and I.

Parker Posey as Jackie-O (The House of Yes)

~~~

I've been watching Mad Men seasons back-to-back like one ridiculously long movie - the best way to watch any television show. Yesterday, I put on the first episode of Season 2, where they showed Don, Betty, Joan and Sal watching Jackie Kennedy give a tour of the White House on television after John F. Kennedy beat Nixon in the presidential elections.



Entirely by coincidence, I wound up watching The House of Yes today - a 1997 movie starring Parker Posey and Josh Hamilton. And well, well, what do you know? It ALSO featured old clips of Jackie Kennedy giving the White House tour. I'm not American, so I can only assume this must've been some sort of... significant event. It's just rather odd that I've never seen the Jackie Kennedy White House tour in my life, and somehow, in the span of two days, managed to see it twice.



Anyway, The House of Yes is possibly one of the most creepy and darkly funny films I've ever watched. I highly recommend it to anyone who likes their humour black, and isn't squeamish/offended by entertainment that depicts all manner of social taboos without any contrived Hollywood ending to show the sinners the error of their ways. There is really no moral of the story here.



The film was based on a play of the same name by Wendy McLeod, and usually, I find that most attempts to adapt plays into movies fall flat on their faces, but this is not the case here. The story is very character and dialogue-driven, and the cast never drops the ball - especially the inimitable Parker Posey, who practically redefined 'batshit crazy' in this movie. She played a wealthy, murderous loon who thinks she's Jackie Kennedy Onassis, and is thereby called Jackie-O by her entire crazed family (which includes an equally insane mother, and a lying younger brother who is possibly autistic). Jackie-O is involved in an incestuous relationship with her twin brother, Marty (played by Josh Hamilton), and when he brings his bright eyed and bushy tailed fiancé (played by Tori Spelling) home for Thanksgiving, all hell - and literally, a hurricane - breaks lose. Freddie Prinze Jr. and Geneviève Bujold play the younger brother and psychotic mother, respectively. When I first saw the cast list, my expectations weren't that high. Parker Posey is brilliant but Tori Spelling and Freddie Prinze Jr. do not usually appear in the same sentence as the words 'good actors'... unless the sentence is 'Tori Spelling and Freddie Prinze Jr. are not good actors'. Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to find them both believable and effective in their roles. I only wish we'd seen more of Geneviève Bujold as the mother. She made so much of the little screen time she had, and was really quite perfect.













Parker Posey
Aside from her films (also highly recommended: Party Girl, Clockwatchers, Waiting For Guffman and Henry Fool), she has pretty sweet clothing sometimes.




I think her vintage telephone bag (pictured below) is particularly endearing, despite the hate it receives. Poor bag. But I think it's a great example of the good kind of tacky - so long as its owner has the style and attitude to pull it off. I, personally, find it delightfully kitsch... and also functional. Believe it or not, you can actually plug the bag into a socket and use it as a telephone to call someone, should you find yourself in a dire emergency within a room bereft of a phone or mobile reception (but that is conveniently equipped with a telephone socket). It happens, I'm sure. Sometimes. Once in a never.




**Image by Luckyklover on Polyvore




Vintage Telephone Bags

Other Ridiculous Bags
...that I love

I am unashamed (ok, maybe slightly ashamed) to admit that I own the green and orange watering cans. They're true conversation pieces. Every time I take one of them out with me, at least three people on the street stop to chat with me about it... usually to find out where they can procure one themselves. Everyone should have something completely ridiculous and funny in their wardrobes. I like to think it spreads joy and good cheer. I'm sure it also causes you to be ridiculed behind your back - or to your face - but really, who cares?

Models

~~~


Lily Cole, Gemma Ward, Gisele Bundchen, Daria Werbowy and Karen Elson
"French Twists" by Annie Leibovitz
US Vogue, May 2004

It's been a long time since I've been excited about a new crop of interesting faces in the modelling world - the sort that captivate my attention in every editorial, breathe that 'something special' into every picture and leave an indelible impression on each designer's runway - enhancing the appeal, rather than detracting from the clothes, and never fading into the wallpaper as yet another nameless, adderall-popping clothes horse with an interchangable face and name that ends in 'ova'.

Outside the fashion bubble, no one but anorexics in search for their thinspiration du jour really cares about the mannequins hired to sell clothes and dreams to the masses through Vogue-tinted glasses (not unless they are in a Victoria's Secret flesh parade, anyway). But there's something I've always found fascinating about them, in the same manner I am intrigued by actors who lead elusive lives, away from the tabloid eye. The mystique lends them charm, and a certain transformative quality - the ability to be celluloid or editorial and runway chameleons, and sell a fantasy; fiction that suspends your disbelief because while Cate Blanchett is selling you Queen Elizabeth, and Sasha Pivovarova is selling you a flapper-era fairy tale illustrated in Giorgio Armani and Rodarte by Steven Meisel, you're not thinking about the last time you saw headlines about their sex tape with a washed up one-hit-wonder while standing in line at the supermarket. I loved Kate Moss in the 90s, when she was such a chameleon. But once her drug infamy and rock star boyfriends began to precede her actual work, that charm vanished.

Growing up in the 90s, it was Christy Turlington, Karen Mulder, Tasha Tilberg, Kristina Semenovskaya, Kirsty Hume, Ling Tan, Milla Jovovich, Linda Evangelista and early Kate Moss. I still have the magazine I shamelessly pilfered from my doctor's waiting room when I was 12 because my mother wouldn't let me spend $40 on an overpriced import periodical. Yet, I knew it had to be mine because within its glossy pages, Christy Turlington had just convinced me that the $25,000 Vera Wang she was swathed in was to be my wedding gown one day. The five-minute commercial breaks on television were only worth sitting through because of the Levi's 'Spaceman' ads with Kristina Semenovskaya as the ethereal black-haired alien - an exotic creature who propelled the product into a far more interesting sphere than it actually deserved. And Ling Tan - the Malaysian Chinese model who shot to fame in Paris and New York, hawked a strain of traditional Asian beauty that had fallen out of popularity within Asia itself, not unlike the Hye Parks and Daul Kims of today.


Christy Turlington


Karen Mulder


Kristina Semenovskaya


Kate Moss


Tasha Tilberg


Kirsty Hume


Linda Evangelista


Ling Tan


Milla Jovovich




Then, I discovered the old guard - the ones before 'my time': Twiggy, Penelope Tree, Veruschka von Lehndorff and Iman. I had a special affection for Twiggy, who was short and 'Asian-sized'. The West seemed to believe she was shockingly thin. Here, her size and stature were the norm, and far easier for an adolescent Asian girl, such as myself, to relate to, in contrast to the curvacious 90s bombshells (Cindy Crawford, Elle Macpherson and their ilk) plastered on the covers of magazines - an ideal attainable only through breast implants and stilts. Twiggy was petite. For once, I could say to myself, "That might be how that dress would sit on me." She sold me on the 1960s mod look - the cut of dresses, and the short hems that made the legs of tiny girls seem to stretch on forever; the Biba and Mary Quant aesthetic, and Yves Saint Laurent's Mondrian frocks.


Twiggy


Iman


Penelope Tree


Veruschka von Lehndorff



I think the last era of models I was truly intrigued by was the alien/elfin doll period that catapulted Gemma Ward, Jessica Stam, Sasha Pivovarova, Vlada Roslyakova, Lily Donaldson, Coco Rocha, Caroline Trentini, Lily Cole and Heather Marks to the top... some more so than others, I suppose. I also liked quite a few of those one step before them - Natalia Vodianova, Karen Elson and Polina Kouklina, in particular. Some said that they all looked too similar, but it was a whimsical aesthetic that I, personally, found pleasing, so I wasn't complaining. These days, once in a blue moon, someone interesting to me will pop up, like Ranya Mordanova or Nimue Smit. The girls like Addison Gill, Monika 'Jac' Jagaciak and Ginta Lapina also make me thankful that classic beauty isn't completely dead in high fashion, and Edita Vilkeviciute is great proof that it's not just 15-year-old waifs playing dress-up in $100,000 Balenciaga leggings who can sell luxury to the middle-aged women who can actually afford it. Aside from a few exceptions though, it's a shame that a lot of the new faces just blend into a sea of blank, charmless clothes hangers you wouldn't look twice at on the streets. I like the escapism, imagination and flights of fancy that separate the world of couture and high fashion from a commercial chain store catalogue, but at times, it's hard to be pulled into the world when the primary players in a story have less charisma than a scone. It almost seems that the failing economy has induced a depression-era gloom that has caused the industry to deprive itself of otherworldliness and transcendental beauty, and become overrun with dour-faced, unexceptional clones.

Some of my favourites from recent(ish) times:


Coco Rocha


Natalia Vodianova


Jessica Stam


Mona Johannesson


Sasha Pivovarova


Jeisa Chiminazzo


Caroline Trentini


Karen Elson


Miranda Kerr


Gemma Ward


Vlada Roslyakova


Bruna Tenorio


Viktoriya Sasonkina


Cintia Dicker


Ginta Lapina


Ranya Mordanova


Diana Moldovan


Inguna Butane


Ali Michael


Myf Shepherd


Martha Streck


Addison Gill


Ilze Bajare


Jac (Monika Jagaciak)


Erin Heatherton


Heather Marks


Anna Arendshorst


Andreea Diaconu


Anabela Belikova


Candice Swanepoel


Frida Gustavsson


Devon Aoki


Imogen Morris Clarke


I used to confuse Imogen with Angelika Kocheva and Daria Strokous all the time, but the above picture sold me.


Freja Beha Erichsen


Lily Donaldson


Du Juan


Lily Cole


Ymre Stiekema


Snejana Onopka


Iekeliene Stange


Doutzen Kroes


Katie Braatvedt


Rose Cordero


Mina Cvetkovic


Edita Vilkeviciute


Irina Kulikova


Lindsay Ellingson


Jourdan Dunn


Magdalena Frackowiak


Siri Tollerød


Eniko Mihalik


Diana Farkhullina


Mackenzie Hamilton


Skye Stracke


Ines Crnokrak


Behati Prinsloo


Sheila Marquez


Nimue Smit


Anna Selezneva


I'm a bit on the fence about Anna S. She has incredibly unique bone structure and works a lot of pictures, but I'm not a fan of the extreme orange tan she sports half the time.


Hyoni Kang


Sofi Berelidze


Hollis Wakeema


Taylor Warren


Daul Kim


Rachel Clark


Liya Kebede


Daria Werbowy


Polina Kouklina


Abbey Lee Kershaw

Family Portrait

~~~

I have really, truly, honestly neglected this poor blog. But I shall try to mend my ways. I have a new Kawai NS-20 and am quite in love with it.

Her name is Black Dahlia.




We took some family portraits.
I realise I look exactly the same in every single picture.
Am unsure how that happened.




Me, my brother Andy, Mum, and our Bichon Frise pooch,
HRH Snowy Cheeselove Curlington McChicken Fluffles III, Esq.





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