Friday, November 27, 2009

The British Society for the Advancement of the Mini-Skirt

The mini-skirt came, the mini-skirt tried to leave, the mini-skirt survived. Long ago during the reign of the swinging '60s, a group of young women protested against Christian Dior's new below-the-knee creations outside of Dior's fashion house. The protest coincided with Dior's showing of the 1966 Autumn/Winter Collection.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009


The face is perhaps the most void and barren canvas available. But while it is unmarked, it is brimming already with the given features and expressions of the anima and soul. The face yields to all, but at the same time possesses and takes order and charge of all that is applied to it. Make-up can be escutcheon, a transformative potion, or an organic enhancer.

From Vogue Paris November 2009.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

What's my line?

The infamous Yves Saint Laurent on the game show What's My Line?

Saturday, November 7, 2009


The year is 1947. Glamorous fur coats are being thrown over gowns for special events, avant-garde shoes are being made by fathers for their daughters, specially for the Ascot, princesses are being married, and jewels are PILED plentifully.

These shoes, worn by Irene Clifford at Ascot, were made by her own father.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Le Ballet

Anna Pavlova - Principal artist of the Imperial Russian Ballet and the Ballets Russes of Serge Diaghilev. Dying swan. Connoisseur of maneuvers. Beauty, grace, and decadence all in one; the epitome of ballet. If there ever was a little girl that did not dream of becoming a ballerina, I believe that images of Anna Pavlova would conjure up a storm of whimsical tulle fabrics and cream colored feathers, nights of spinning on their toes, and the airyness and softness that only a ballerina can bring to mind. I think I want to be a ballerina.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Bunnies and Brown Leather

I just had to share this photo from the November issue of Vogue Paris. Something about the oversize chunky gold men's watch, soft bunny with it's ears half pugnaciously yanked back, half endearingly held back, and a placket-like sheath of brown leather ignites an amber flame of what is to be November.