The Divine Ford and Firth

Sorry- long week! It is always incredibly hectic after half term. Of course, work will become progressively more chaotic as exam season approaches.

Anyway, onto the fashion. I saw Tom Ford's 'A Single Man' a few days ago, and thought it was wonderful; heavily stylised yet tender and heart-warming. Colin Firth's performance was beautifully nuanced and captivating. A few models here and there weren't too bad either (I don't think Tom Ford could resist!).

So here's the poem:

A Single Man

Amidst his impeccable house

the professor sat in tense anticipation.

Everywhere a reminder of

the architect he lost.

No amount of Chanel, Dior or Armani

could retrieve him from his grieving.

And rightly so.

The desperate lady

perfecting her eyes,

creating her face

was powerless.

The paper lamp flickered across

the decadence but it could not

reach those trapped in misery.

Meanwhile a confused boy

with a jumper of snow

wondered why the professor was afraid.

His model girlfriend looked beautiful

and was quiet. Nothing else.

As the professor perfected his suit

on the bed the gun glinted and clicked

but he was a coward.

The fully furnished man could not do it.

Instead, he lit up and took the Aston round the bend.

Callow Carey No Longer

A tribute to the wonderful Carey Mulligan, who deservedly earned her BAFTA yesterday...

You gazed with awe into your mother's wardrobe

too early,

It gazed back at you with tender derision.

As you cunningly matured it brightened with age,

The rock became the diamond.

You tried it on again but

it sagged. It was not supposed to sag.

Maybe a few more years are in order?

All the while you become

Magnificent.

The final attempt is upon you,

you have tried your hair first:

long, bobbed, pixie, brown, blonde.

Blonde and pixie it is

You're the Puck.

At last, your arms creep along the floral web

the shoulders can support it,

the silk no longer drowns you but

your yellow head bubbles above the surface,

like the flower.

Your skin is aglow,

Did you stay in all these years?

Nothing to match your eyes, the real diamonds

Or do they rest upon your ears?

To finish, a ribbon to secure

as you gaze upon yourself

it is the dress who reveres.

It fits.

Change of plan

I have done some investigating. It is clear to me that there is an extreme abundance of fashion blogs. Who really needs one more? I have come to the conclusion that this particular blog is slightly useless, and have formulated a new plan.
So, the grand plan. Here it is: I am going to write about fashion but, I am going to write about it through the wonders of poetry. Crazy I know, but I want to have a go and see where I end up.
It will probably be pretty evident who I have been reading at the time of writing the poems. For instance I am buried in Plath at present, so perhaps a more candid and sinister side will seep through. Who knows? That is the beauty of poetry. Take what you want from it, it does not need to be clear.
However I would like to mention that I do not mean to cause offense in any of my poetry, I simply write down my jumbled thoughts as soon as they form.
Just to briefly mention, I am going to start a blog on culture in general, and explore anything of interest to me and hopefully to you! From the victorian era to the swinging sixties, I shall write down any nuggets of information worth reading.
Onto the first poem then- bear in mind that I will improve with time, so I hope this is not a enormous anti-climax (although I'm sure you were not holding your breath)...

Upon hearing on the death of the brilliant Alexander McQueen, I composed this poem:


Alexander McQueen.

When Wacko Jacko died it was bittersweet.
Fire and ice collided. King of Pop. 'Child molester'.
But you, when you died the world
flickered out momentarily
as the immense presence tore at the fickle few.
Momentarily.
From its ashes sprung a new fiend, emptiness.
It crashed upon our ears,
Our eyes,
Our words choked and then-
We picked up our paper and carried on...

I musn't forget the tickets for tomorrow.
It had your name on. Now replaced.
But it is etched in me
Rebellious You.


Again, no offence intended. I promise that my future poems will be less melancholy.

I will update roughly every two or three days, as that gives me plenty of time to have any strokes of inspiration.

I hope you will continue to have a look at my future posts- thanks!

Flirty fantasies

Valentine's Day is a weird event. It's not as if you need reminding that you are 'in love' or 'a-lone'. It seems like a rite of passage amongst lovers and singletons alike. If you are in the former category you have a special day with your special someone doing special things, but if you fall in the latter group you congregate and make 'boyfriend bonfires' whilst reciting Sylvia Plath. Supposedly.
In any case, it ignites the romantic in me, and after I have processed the Keats and Wordsworth, my mind wanders to fashion, and there is one person in particular whom I associate with fantasical, fanciful dresses: Elie Saab. His elegant and ethereal creations to me epitomise an idyllic love, through his favoured materials of silk and chiffon, which gives the dress a floaty, almost flirty feeling.




In an ideal world, Elie Saab would design my wedding dress, as his chiffon masterpieces are entirely beautiful and other-worldly. In a rather cliched way, it would be my 'fairy tale' wedding dress. Excuse me for that cliche, but Valentine's Day has sent me into a state of delirium; I will be thinking properly tomorrow.

Full Circle/New Beginnings

There is perhaps something rather poignant about the date of my first blog. 13/02/2010. To some, an unlucky day; to others it is a preparation for the joyous or melancholic emotions felt on Valentines Day. But to me, and countless others worldwide, it is just days after the death of one of fashion's greatest assets; a true genius of our time, and believe me, I do not use the term 'genius' lightly.

Alexander McQueen or 'Lee' to his loved ones is dead, and his death is reverberating across the world with the force and effect he had in life. His quirky persona and revolutionary designs endeared him to the hearts of many, and the legacy he has now left behind shall be much revered.

This shows that, although some may perceive the world of fashion to be nothing less than fickle (though this is also true), there is something about it that people connect to. Possibly it is the escapism people find within it- it is certainly what appeals most to me; an outlet of creativity amidst an increasingly serious and somber society. We need some frivolity in our lives! It is almost the fickle element of fashion that makes it so wonderful; it is ever changing and the industry gives people a chance to express themselves through a visual spectacle.

McQueen at Paris Fashion Week SS AW09

This ability to say things, not through speech, but merely a colour or material is a powerful force, as in that moment of glimpsing a garment, it reveals something about the designer's character and inner self. To McQueen however, they were 'just clothes'. He ripped and tore and spray-gunned his designs

, pushing the boundaries of art to the extreme. He was labelled a lunatic by many, but then again, so was Picasso, now one of the most influential figures of modern art. McQueen constructed many outrageous shows, but the instant Shalom Harlow was squirted by two paint guns will be forever imprinted within the minds of many, and stands out as the farthest he has gone in terms of shattering the heavily prepared and contrived quality fashion generally had.

However, possibly my favourite McQueen moment, is his 'Kate hologram', where Kate (Moss) appeared as a giant, ethereal yet elegant phantom, moving fluidly and striking a powerful and simply exquisite image.

'Kate Hologram' SS06 (Watch the video on youtube for the full effect.)

Although Alexander McQueen will, and certainly should, be remembered for his outstanding and unique works of

art, it is also important to remember the person behind the designs, and be saddened more due to the loss of a life, than the loss of a designer.

However, fashion, as always, will continue. It will forge the way forward and destroy boundaries. This is because creativity is limitless. Someone's mind cannot be tamed or restricted; it will wander freely, and rightly so. McQueen did not adhere to the conventions of fashion, and lets hope no one else does.