Fashion Raindrops: The Virgin Suicides

 On the Stairs.

"We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we
couldn't fathom them at all." (Jeffrey Eugenides, The Virgin Suicides). 

Every summer I find myself turning to The Virgin Suicides, one of my favourite books, and also the film adaptation by Sofia Coppola. It creates this beautiful hazy American vintage atmosphere, the kind of thing that designers would kill to evoke for a Spring/Summer collection, where people run barefoot and everything's a bit more innocent. I certainly feel like this year is full of yet another evocation of whiter-than-white dresses with lace, of floral headbands and knee-high socks, worn Lolita-style. It always makes me turn back to that book, for a more authentic and beautifully worded slant on sun-drenched afternoons and a little bit of heartache.

The other week I came across this amazing vintage dress at Brighton's Vintage Nation, featuring a gorgeous floral 1970s print and bell sleeves. I was hooked. £25 and a little restoration with some Vanish and I had myself a look that was almost worthy of the Lisbon sisters in the novel. 

So much of the text is about the local boys' perceptions of the girls and their appearance or behaviour, through the briefest of glimpses or through anecdotal evidence from their school-friends who have managed to get inside the sisters' world. When they try to liberate themselves at the school prom, with their sack-like dresses as imposed by the domineering Mrs. Lisbon, we see how they can go beyond the superficial, with conservative clothes unable to provide a barrier to their freedom.

 

Glowing White.

 “It didn't matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls, but only that we had loved them, and that they hadn't heard us calling, still do not hear us, up here in the tree house with our thinning hair and soft bellies, calling them out of those rooms where they went to be alone," (Jeffrey Eugenides).

If you get the chance to read The Virgin Suicides, then do. It's one of my favourite summer reads and it stays with you long after the last page is turned. Whether you're a fashion lover or you just like a good book, I can thoroughly recommend it.

[All photographs my own. Please ask before reproducing].

Fashion Raindrops: Happy Birthday, Van Gogh

 [Images collaged and taken from Vogue.co.uk].

Rodarte's S/S12 catwalk show was pure Van Gogh sunshine and sky blue.

March 30th would have been Vincent Van Gogh's birthday, and all the sunflower fever got me thinking about the distinct impression of the great man that the Mulleavy sisters, a.k.a. design duo Rodarte, left on their Spring/Summer 2012 collection. It's not as if they were influenced by a retrospective or a big anniversary (he's only 159 this year!) but it was clear that he was in their sights when they designed these dresses, which were a mixture of flowing fabrics and stiff collars or angular sections that chopped into the print. When I originally reported on Rodarte S/S12, it's fair to say that most of the range was underwhelming compared to the girls' normal standards of sumptuous, gloomy glamour, but you can't please everyone, especially not lowly fashion bloggers from England, all of the time.

 Turquoise and purple pieces reflected Van Gogh's intense use of colour.

What strikes me, looking at these photos on reflection, is how buoyant a lot of the patterns and embellishment seems, from the evening dresses with their tiers of lace and chiffon like painted forms, to the simple skirts that were cut from buttercup yellow silk. Whereas the original Van Gogh paintings can seem more sinister or frantic - especially if you've ever studied History of Art - the clothing produced by Rodarte glossed over that and focused on blasts of colour. The only indication of something deeper was the harsh eyeliner, seemingly taken from Taylor Momsen or the emo kids that hang around town centres, worn with a confident but angry pout. Other than that, this was mainstream Vincent in positive mode, with brushstrokes and delicate forms, and Rodarte were keen to emphasise it as much as possible.

[Image from Lolroflmao.com].

Now this is how to celebrate the big day, Van Gogh-style. It's strange and unfortunate to think that he didn't achieve much critical acclaim in his lifetime, yet we're still raving about him 159 years from where it all began.

Happy 159th, Vincent - still inspiring us in 2012.

Fashion Raindrops: Retail Decay

[Image my own. Please click to enlarge]. 

An intriguing and battered shopface in Southwark. 

As a shopping addict, I'm well aware that I can sniff out a retail opportunity at 20 paces (aged 10, I went on a school trip to the local airfield when someone told me it was an airport and I thought there'd be some good Duty Free). Spotting this gorgeous olive green building in Southwark, London, I was naturally drawn to the 'Goods Inwards' sign, but the derelict state of the facade also meant I couldn't resist getting out my camera. 

Despite the fact that there was no shopping to be done here, I'm really glad that I stumbled across the site. There's enough peeling paint and rotting wood to make it worthy of an entire art project. I'd like to see more buildings like this being restored, even if they aren't commercially viable for trade and have to be snapped up by property developers. As much as I love London's modernity, it's more refreshing to get a glimpse of its past. Though I don't currently know what this place used to be in its better days, I'll be doing my research.

Fashion Raindrops - Fashion Quotes from Novels - #1

'I was determined that, for once, for just once in my life, when I went to those readings, I would be wearing the 'right' thing... To my chagrin, I found all my clothes stubbornly resisting this desired neutrality, splitting themselves resolutely up into three categories: Tyrolean Peasant, Bar Girl, and Dreaded Librarian.'

Sally Jay Gorce in Elaine Dundy's The Dud Avocado, 1958.