from ljubljana with love

 

Today I'm celebrating my 20th birthday and my last day in Ljubljana, Slovenia. I've sort of fallen in love with this city and want myself a flat in one of the crazy high rise blocks with huge concrete window boxes filled with geraniums and ferns. The above picture doesn't really do the actual sight of these complexes justice, but take my word for it. There are also lots of sexy girls and boy here wearing very very nice clothes. Next stop is Germany so if anybody has tips for Berlin please share them with me! Traveling alone has felt really good, I've had the chance to finally do some proper reading, swim in the stupefyingly beautiful Adriatic Sea and feel I've pushed myself nicely out of my comfort zone. I've also eaten a Horse meat burger and found the experience completely odd and then nauseating when I reached the last bite and felt the urge to throw up. Nice. See you on the other side!

purple

Purple Magazine, 2001.

pyjama dressing

Welcome to the world of Pyjama Dressing. Bill Travers and Virginia McKenna in Born Free are responsible for imprinting the romantic notion of pyjama sharing onto my young brain. It is somehow less lovey dovey sickly when it's advocated in a hot safari tent in Kenya and in the name of 'practicality' with she in the candy striped top, and he in the candy striped bottoms. I used to think that all couples could stick it out until the end as long as they halved a pair of pyjamas. My pragmatism has since got the better of me, but I still maintain this is a nice touch where 'pyjamas on film' is concerned.

During the years of telling myself that the pleasure of bedtime was to be had in comfortably worn old t-shirts, the idea of 'proper pyjamas' seemed the height of luxury and one of the hallmarks of 'proper people.' Those people who take pride in themselves, who probably spend an evening each week handwashing their underwear rather than leaving a pile to accumulate in the corner of the bedroom. The sort of luxury of spending their days in the Ritz with no need to change from their silky bedtime attires. Or the sort of properness that could only be achieved by children in their fluffy Christmas pyjamas or elder generations who just knew how to navigate such a realm as pocket edging at night. Things changed when I bought myself a pair of Tootals pyjamas in a sage green last winter. A pocket with a pleasing navy stripe and a lovely white drawstring on the trousers, surely I was a fully fledged member of the very 'pyjama club' that had eluded me? I could go from slobby student to 'means business' on days off!

The 'pyjama as outerwear' trend is one that I thoroughly approve of, though I must admit it falls into the category of trends that doesn't translate quite so well in real life. Ryan Gosling epitomises what is brilliant about this look by remaining smart rather than conveying a 'yeah, I just rolled out of bed' nonchalance. The Araks pyjamas worn by Heathermary Jackson above look brilliant for chilled summer afternoons but I doubt that either the top or bottoms could be worn without it being blaringly apparent an early morning dressing mishap had occured. Oy vey. For this reason the pyjama style jackets that Topshop have been rolling out recently have a nice 'beddish' quality about them without leaving the wearer psychologically confused (yes) about their state of undress.

Winter seems to be the solution when layering is the saviour of tricky trends and pyjama tops can be worn underneath long macs with suede skirts or black trousers and topped off with big scarves a la those draping fake-fur stoles at Unique. Which is rather more fitting for 'sneaking down the the fridge in the middle of night in my pyjamas and winter layers' authenticity, a formula that loosely translates as Wee Willie Winkle meets the Anywho girls..

dear diary

I have been reminded of this video and it's sheer brilliance by Florence. Timetable as follows: Reading recommendations and timestables from Ms Arfin and then after breaktime French(ing) History and hearty laughs from Chloe Sevigny.

white kirby mess

I can't for the life of me remember where it was I saw it, but at some point over the past week and during a mindless magazine flicking session the concept of haphazard white kirby grips slotted into my hair felt like a good idea. Now (this is where I rant off like an old relative desperate to recall a piece of information that has since become irrelevant, counting on each finger in the process..) it was either a photograph in the July Elle. Or am I thinking of Vogue? Then again a couple of old 2001 i-Ds have the current 'top spot' atop the magazine stack next to my toilet. Don't frown upon this. It is common knowledge that like scone pronounciation ('sc-gone'? 'sc-own'?) and indeed scone consumption (cream or jam first?) people can be divided into two camps: toilet readers and toilet frowners. I am not ashamed that I fall into the former, it is where great minds do their best thinking. Which I suppose means that I have a great mind and that white haphazard kirby grips are great thinking. Thank you, I'll take that.

away we go

own photographs, lake garda last year.

I'm heading off to Europe for a month which is rubbish because it means I have to do 'real' things like look at churches and interrail and talk to people when I could be sitting in front of this screen and blogging. Eh, who am I kidding, I'm really excited even if it does mean leaving the blog. And even if it means I spent five hours of stringing out half hearted packing and experiencing an internal debate over the desire for light packing liberation and all of my shorts in my suitcase. Posting shall by the power of time travel and 'technology de la internet' continue as I've set up some self timed posts. Until next month!

on blonde II

After the blonde craving, I bit the bullet and went to the hairdressers. Not quite as blonde as I'd been hoping for, but I still like the change. My stomach slightly dropped when the hairdresser concluded with a blow dry and the words 'I just thought we'd keep it quite subtle for now in case you didn't like it and then we can go even blonder next time.' Indeed. Lovely if I'd planned on coming in again for another colour but the £70 I'm about to give you is pretty much my annual dyeing fund, and this is a one time thing, gat it? Still, tomorrow I leave for a month interrailing around Europe and I'm hoping the Italian heat can coax some barbie hues from my follicles.

darwin and delilah

I'm very excited to have Darwin and Delilah as the first sponsors of the blog! Sponsorship is something I've been pondering for a while, I put a lot of love into this blog and as a student it would always be nice to have a few extra pennies in my pocket to buy the things I'm constantly rabbiting on about and lusting after. You can see their little icon on the right in the toolbar.But more to the point Charlotte, Molly and Adam know what is good. And 'good' comes in the form of denim dresses, Levis sneakers, 70s nudie nudie photography books and sailor boy sewing patterns. It's also worth having a little peruse of their blog Ou est la Discotheque (yes, the marrying of two discotheques is completely coincidental) which I personally like for the fact it combines thrifting guides, pistachio brownie recipes and tips about the best markets for weekend rambling. All things after my own heart.

PS, Darwin and Delilah are also offering us a 10% off their stock with the apt code 'DISCOTHEQUE'. Nice!

Exhausted Renegade Elephant

'Exhausted Renegade Elephant" by Joel Sternfeld.

Since coming across this photograph on a postcard in the Arnolfini bookshop the other day I haven't been able to stop looking at it. The sight of an exhausted, fully grown Elephant collapsed in the middle of a small country road in Cowlitz County, Washington is incredible. At first I thought Sternfeld's photograph was showing a car crash, and kind of laughed with the surreal realisation that it is in fact an elephant..on the loose in rural America. But then as you look closer and see the local children gathered on the bank to witness this odd sight of the elephant being hosed down in an attempt too cool there is something very melancholy about it all. Amazing photograph nonetheless and you can read the story behind it all here. Very Dumbo-esque with the story of escaped elephants, baffled town sheriffs and a trampled animal trainer..

Markus Lupfer Resort 2011

Instead of opting for a presentation or a lookbook to show off his Resort 2011 collection, Markus Lupfer has teamed up with director Tabitha Denton and stylist Aldene Johnson to create this brilliantly witty short film which parodies science documentaries of bygone eras. Lab coated analysts poke and prod their dysfunctional yet stylish specimens and I couldn't watch without feeling like I was sitting behind a wooden bench with bunsen burner fumes wafting under my nose, as if I was back in a school science lesson. While I don't think the big names are necessary to make the video work and the collection itself I think took a backseat, I can overlook these blips and applaud a fashion film which goes down a different path from the whimsical style-porn fests that have become de rigueur of lookbook videos. I also find myself oddly drawn to the brilliant gabbling 'monologists' played by Liddie Holt and Jan De Villeneuve- "but then I couldn't believe it, there was a flamingo carrying my clutch bag."-they're just the kind of mad Aunts I'd like at my table for Christmas.

Video via Elisabeth who had her ear to the ground.

blondes

Blondes having fun. Not 'more fun' per se, but fun all the same. The little niggle at the back of my head is live and kicking and it says 'this summer, I want to be a blonde.' Who am I to ignore it? Well, a cash strapped student who cannot afford a professional bleach job. Before I was born my Dad was a hairdresser. (He actually competed in a competition but alas was beaten by.. Charles Worthington!) Although he now spends his days in suits instead of behind a chair with a scissors and comb finely balanced between fingers. I find myself pondering the possibility of the two of us dusting off his terrifying old rubber highlighting cap and dipping our toes back into the water of at-home hairdressing. I didn't go to the hairdressers until I was about 13 because a seat in front of a television or in the middle of the field by our caravan (no need for hoovering hair) was where my strands used to live their final moments. Advocates for being blonde include: Kasia Struss, Jerry Hall sliding backwards down stairs (naturally), Daryl Hannah in Splash!, Julie Christie, Racqel Zimmerman, long haired surfer chicks and Lara Stone. "....Daaad?.."

the week

 Some snaps from the past week:

1. My much loved kimono dressing gown.
2. Birkenstocks from eBay which are unfortunately too big-boo!
3. Lunch and Mark's Bread which is one of the best things about returning to Bristol.
4. Sleeveless denim dress.
5. American breakfast pancakes.
6. Brand new sandals from here, after my old ones gave up the ghost.
7. Me and Edward Cullen.
8. Sitting at the Bristol Docks.

mood

Clockwise from top right: Winona with lots and lots of food by Juergen Teller/ camping bracelet/ Birkenstocks via Vice Style/ everything about this outfit via Facehunter.

style notes for the guys

Clockwise from top left: A.P.C Summer 2011, Bill Travers as George Adamson in Born Free, Bill Murray via Life, Dries Van Noten Spring 2012 Menswear, Ali in Fear Eats The Soul, Scott Sternberg and Jared Lawton via Opening Ceremony.

On my way home last week I was overtaken by a guy on his bike, slightly swaying under the weight of panniers laden with paintpots and bags. He was wearing a navy workwear all-in-one and had a grey beard that made him look sort of  like an urban Father Christmas. Which probably wasn't the most comfortable way to be dressed on a day characterised by its sweltering heat but still, it made me think "Yeah, work overalls are rad!" See also the denim overalls from the APC Summer '11 collection which wouldn't go a miss worn two sizes too big with sleeves rolled-up and a few paint splashes. The Dries Van Noten Menswear collection, I must admit featured not one pair of overalls and was generally a much smarter affair (with deliciously neat tangerine and midnight blue stripes particularly attractive and paving the way for post-prada stripes.) But still with baggy uniforms in mind, one loose shirt and trouser combo brought to mind images of pilots while adding momentum to the 'hmm, navy uniform' thought process. But before I overstep the line from perfectly legitimate workwear curiosities into a uniform fetish, I shall nod to the other 'style notes for the guys' that have recently inhabited corners of my brain. 

I give you Bill Travers in Born Free (a film that shall never escape a place in my heart partly because of memories of watching it as a child but also because Virginia McKenna and Bill Travers are heroes of Safari style.) Also Bill Murray in a thin white thermal because he is the original handsome devil and made me laugh uncontrollably, playing himself, when I watched Zombieland the other day. ('Any regrets?' 'Garfield maybe.') A still from Fassbinder's Fear Eats The Soul shows Ali standing at the bar in his brown suit. The film is full of beautiful shots of characters framed by windows and doorframes, 1970s clashing of patterned wallpaper and wrapdresses and some brilliant suits worn by the men, all in the brown accents that still epitomise that decade. And last but not least Band of Outsiders' Scott Sternberg with Jared Lawton who designs the sets for his shows. Simply because they both look cool and kind of nerdy sitting side by side on that camp bed like they're on a weekend away with the Boy Scouts waiting for the fun to start. The bed was actually one of the main features in the Band Of Outsiders presentation last September which saw the menswear collection presented on models lounging in their own 'dormrooms' fitted with rickety wooden desks and guitar cases and bottles of whiskey. How very Holden Caulfield.

outfit

Last week. This was a 'going to buy ingredients for a carrot cake' outfit. 

I'm wearing my 'Robert Ford tunic' (it reminds me of the thin cotton garments worn in The Assassination of Jesse James) along with my faithful jeans and sunglasses from Topshop, bag from Cow Vintage and New Balance trainers.

The carrot cake turned out to be absolutely delicious, though I suffered a classic Miranda from Sex and The City case of consuming almost the whole thing to myself, which is the most senior form of culinary egotism. The recipe is from The Great British Baking book, great for comforting baked goods though maybe not summer shapeliness.

tales of tying jumpers

From top: Aino via Vice Style, Kirsten Dunst, No. 21 Resort '12.

"Be careful or the wind will change and you'll be stuck looking like that." Ah, that age old threat used by pissed off parents to coerce young chronic nose-pickers or teenagers with obsessive compulsive facial twitches into amending their ways. Well, the wind changed. And tying of jumpers stuck. "Yeah, that'll teach you, you old gesture of convenience, you," the Wind says "you're stuck. And what are you going to do about it?" The tying of the one's jumper, whether over the shoulders or around the waist has been shadowed by it's bad reputation for some time. While other 'gestures' have found a niche for themselves as trends, see 'hangbags hung from the crook of the elbow circa 2006' or the more latterly 'tucking hair into coat collars', jumper tying has been banished and forced to wallow in it's Sloaney associations and past incarnation as Pringle sweaters over shoulders on the Kings Road. Of course this is all generalisation, I'm sure there are plenty of people who are no longer plagued by childhood memories of their Mother forcefully tying a jumper around their waist for practicality and the squirmish embarrassment it was met with 'Mum, it doesn't look cool!' and I'm sure these people are now able to tie their jumper carefree. I say this because I am now one of those people. Despite the fact that was my own very vivid childhood memory just described. 

This new found 'okay-ness' with jumper tying came last week when I was meeting a friend for breakfast and wanted the comfort of wearing leggings without the slight obscenity of showing the world the outline of my reproductive organs (kind of). Plus I thought 'Huh, let's see what this looks like..' And before I knew it I was confidently wrapping and knotting my trusty Margaret Howell jumper around my waist and heading off. And so instead of reverting back to my 8 year old self, screwing up my nose and 'yuck'ing I can now regard a harmless little tie of a jumper is just that: harmless.