For Laura Miles, an obscure Fashion star

Michelle Obama in a Thakoon dress, colours by Laura Miles.

Fashion is all about names: Coco Chanel, Yves Saint Laurent, Miuccia Prada, Emanuel Ungaro are more than designers, they are immortals who shaped the world of fashion into the million star firmament it is today. Their names shine in golden letters on the fashion skylight.

Sometimes though, I wonder who Yves Saint Laurent would have been without the elfic talent of embroiderer Francois Lesage.

Suppliers are little spoken of in this brilliant world of shapes and artifice, but they are really the powder within the firework rocket: where would be the new Ungaro collection without the vibrant fabrics Esteban Cartazar used to energize his silhouettes?

For them all, for the forgotten, for the ones who work in the shadow and make magic happen, I want to celebrate Laura Miles: she is not champagne and black ties, she still takes the suppliers entrance instead of the red carpet one, but the fabrics she creates are some of the most inventive and flamboyant on the runway, and she puts life and character in designer clothing. Jonathan Saunders, Carolina Herrera and Issac Mizrahi have been inspired to create strong designs out of her rainbow of irridescent fabrics.

When you see Michelle Obama in one of her designs, you know the girl has some character, and she is just in the right place: colour for colour, warmth for warmth, Laura Miles is an obscure North star who will guide fashion to its North.

Champagnista V

What should I wear to please him?

It is 7pm. You are standing in front of your mirror, knickers on, maybe not the right ones because you have not quite figured the math. The wardrobe is open, wide open, full of clothes, from the grandma half calf high-waisted black ample velour skirt to the tiniest denim skinny shorts. At 8pm, he is going to ring at your door and take you out.

If he is a gentleman, because let us be honest, nowadays chances are that he will have called you and set an hour to meet up at a cozy/elegant enough pub (meaning if you don't have your ass fondled by the first beer drunker after 23 minutes in you will be lucky).

Point is: what should you wear?

You like him, you like the both of you together, and you want him to look at you. You want him to want to be with you really: you want him to enjoy your appearance, to be proud of having you on his arm, and to desire more when he sees you.

Question is: short skinny denim shorts or not? Will he think less of you for daring the really sexy oufit? Will he think more?

This is probably the most frequent dilemma a woman will have to face (sadly enough) in her life.

There are two things you should be thinking of at this exact moment: first, what goal do you have closest to your heart? Is it really about a man? Second: what will you feel more empowered wearing?

You want to be yourself! You want to remember who you are and what you are thriving for on a personal basis, however much you like him. But also, you want to feel good in what you wear, because this is the way you will feel most confident and attractive.

Seducing is not about the length of your skirt or the decollete of your top. Sure, men will enjoy both, but does it mean they will appreciate you more for it? And more importantly, will you enjoy wearing an outrageous outfit you chose for him, or will you be concerned the whole night (in the typical womanly narcissistic way) with the shape of your upper thigh?

My very patriarchal (and very smart) grandfather once told me: I like women who leave a little to imagination.

I will rephrase his piece of manly advice this way: do not go for what you think he will find sexy, go for what you feel confident in. t is not about what you want him to see you in, but what you want to be seen as. What do you want to exude? What outfit will work best for you? You do not want to wonder what goes through his head when you are having a great conversation with him. You want to be able to be yourself. You also want to intrigue him: tease him, but not necessarily in an 'in-his-face' way.

Yes it is about the cut, fit or/and length of your dress, but more for you than for him. If you feel confident, you will project a strong image, you will feel sexy. If you hide a little, he could imagine more.

Seduction...

Champagnista V

Family trip

Is family in fashion?

I had a lovely day with my father today, whom I had not seen in eight months, and it urged me to write a family post.

Yes, I know, talking about family in a fashion world that is supposed to be so unattached and cool might not seem all that trendy and glamorous.

I like to think of fashion in a social way. The big fashion community is very much like a family in the sense that it has a common appartenance, it has a hierarchy (my family is very patriarchal), and there are lots of rules, which are meant to be broken.

I find clothes wonderful. Colourful heels are always a pick-up that will give you just this extra hight when you feel down. Put on the right dress, and you will suddenly feel beautiful, confident and appraisable. And it can feel magic, and these might all be feelings that you will be left to crave for in your family, however wonderful.

I love waking up in the morning: I am incredibly interested in my (fashion) job, and I am part of a (fashion) team that I love, a team that is diverse, a team that clusters very different characters: open-minded people, rich people, individuals who have an often truculant personality and a horizon that goes beyond the walls of London and the shores of England, and so much further. And if I have never been much of a morning person, I know that when I arrive at the office early without having had my wake-up coffee, my colleague miss G will always come up with the most unlikely morning conversation and it will make me smile. How good is it to begin a day's work with a smile?

You are probably thinking: she is digressing, what the fuck is she getting at? Well, this is my point: I believe that everywhere you can find circumstances, persons, art, landscapes, things -be they friends, be it light in the million blossoms of a cherry tree, be it the explosive pink-mandarine cocktail of s Sinha-Stanic dress- that will give you a sense of beauty, that will inspire you emotion, that will make you feel happy, even very happy indeed. Family does not necessarily get you in this state of mind.

What family does, with its traditions and memories, with its open gossip and judgements, with all its heartaches and storms and crazy reprovals, is to give you a sense of belonging. They might drive you nuts, but they also remind you that yes, you come from somewhere, yes you might not abide by their laws, you might worry them and get them to disapprove of you, and behave in a way that will get you harsh comments and make you feel inadequate, but you will always be a part of them. And maybe I am wrong and there might be a line of no return, but I think family you can always turn to, whenever. They will always be here for you.

I went back to France for Easter, and as every time, I was quite scared about it because I am not the closest to them I could be. I went back to the family holiday house in Brittany. A very old romantic house that sits on a beach in a bay, in a small village where the post office is open only in summer when vacationers come over.

I have incredible childhood memories from this place: I remember a storm that took away a meter-deep of sand on the beach when I was 8 or 9; my brothers and I went prospecting and we found amazing treasures from a hole-punched Napoleonian coin to a world war II mine. The cliffs that hem the seascape make you feel like you are in Brontee novel, covered in purple grey ferns beaten by the cold Channel wind. The air and sky can be so clear it gives you difficulty breathing.

Civilization please, might you think.

It is not 'civilized'. It is not a place to go to if you want to sunbath topless on the sand and party in the evening: the locals would most likely track you down and beat you up.

On Easter day we were 25, from 2-year-old (oh beautiful) twin girls, the latest offspring, to 80 year old hypochondriac grandparents. Like all beloving mothers, the twins' mum came to me at some point in the middle of lunch because I had one on my lap and told me, candid: 'oh, i can see you are having such a great time, would you not love to change their nappies'.

Quite ironic from my point-of-view, but in a way, so pricelessly loving!

I did go of course, I found it funny if a bit scary.

Took the nappies off.

Ha.

Post-apocalyptic poo of the century.

Baby norovirus.

I was pressing down on one of the baby's bust who was lying on the changing bed while trying to get rid off the nappy in a way that would allow me to touch it with the most minimal part of my nail tips, when suddenly, the baby starts peeing on my new Paul & Joe silk blouse.

Aha.

Hmm.

I kept holding her to make sure she would not fall from the bed.

Can I confess this on a fashion blog? Even if I would not confess it to a family who consider it a disgrace that I am the age I am and unmarried?

...

It made me feel a tad maternal.

So here is to spending £100 on a plane ticket to go back to your family rather than on the latest Tiger-printed Ferragamo silk scarf.

Champagnista V

Barbie Hedren

Did you know that Barbie was celebrating her 50th birthday? well-conserved isn't she? I suspect Bottox, she has always been so keen on artifice.

The feast, which takes place in no less established a fashion address than Dover street market, has been extended until April 25th. The space has been decorated in Henry Holland's fancy, who has turned the room into a crazy colourful candy box of the funniest taste.

I am still shivering at the thought of the giant Barbie head welcoming you when you enter... Glamorous Chucky, I am now trying to lock it out of my mightmares. However, some pieces on sale are truly mythic, like this limited edition of a Tippy Hedren Barbie fighting Hitchcok's Birds.

Barbie is growing smart! Would she have reached the age of reason?

Champagnista V

A little something to share on a dull and grey friday afternoon

A bling-kini really? Fashion surely does not fail to surprise us!

Priced at £2000 the limited edition swimwear is swathed in over 5,000 brightly coloured Swarovski Austrian crystals and costs a far from skimpy £100 per square centimetre- need i say more? I think not!!!

Champagnista M

Dancing to the beat of my own drum

I am not what one would call a follower. I dance to the beat of my own drum and love it. So when my eye fell on the latest uggs I found myself turning into a fashion lemming. I have never been an Uggs follower, preferring my sky scraper heels instead, but I am like 100% in love with the latest uggs. The print on the boots is pretty and flirty, just like me, which is just superb right?

So any who what are your thoughts???

It was whilst I mulled over my shoe dilemma this weekend, that I ended up purchasing the following bad mamas. I ordered them on Sunday and they where delivered today at work by the rather yummy DHL man. As I screamed “my shoes” out loud and proud, the whole office gathered around my desk so they can be the first to take a peek. Feeling like a proud mama I pulled them out of the box with love, and suddenly I heard a shriek. It seemed that the girls (and the one guy) where completely shocked, and following the clearing of their throats one of them muttered “they are certainly different”, as they shuffled away. I love my new shoes with the lust only a fellow shoe lover can relate too; I will just try not to do a Naomi.

Champagnista M

French Hope!

There is hope for Mr Burlington.

I am withdrawing all my bad thoughts about French justice: I exiled myself 5 years ago because I felt that Paris was becoming too constricted and conservative; however, once in a while, I experience a rush of emotion for my land and for my countrymen.

If Paris can seem slightly stuck up and static compared to London in terms of fashion and art, the revolutionary spirit is always in the air: we French are blunt, we are 'fanfarons' (boasters?), we are always 'en train de raler' (complaining? these are such French traits of character that any attempt of finding a British alternative will be lost in translation), we are touchy and always engaging in political and philosophical disputes as if our lives depended upon it. Ballsy, proud and bloody annoying sometimes. We have been raised with the concepts of 'liberté, égalité, fraternité': they are principles dear to every Frenchman, and they are principles we will always stand for, as a people and as individuals.

France is, after all, the country that first came up with the idea of the modern man, the democratic man, the man who, to paraphrase Pasternak, is 'unthinkable' without these two ideals: 'free personality' and 'life regarded as sacrifice'. The idea is that as an individual, you have the power to make a change, you have the possibility to interact with others, and as your life gets interwoven with others, you have the chance to make a difference. There is no group truth, there are only individual quests, and individual impacts on Life: searching for the truth is a life sacrifice, it is a sacrifice to life itself.

This is a concept I find incredibly inspiring, and that the French -I believe- hold close to their heart.

At any point, the French government are now taking Mr Burlington under their wing: as it turns out, he does not face 12 years if he gets extradited to the US, but 25 years in jail.

For the offence Mr Burlington committed he would have had to serve 6 months in France: when noticing the discrepancy, French justice thought there had been a mistake in his file, some kind of typo mistake explaining the harshness of the American government.

No such thing, American Justice is unforgiving.

Seeing as he was not involved with a criminal organization, seeing as his criminal record was otherwise spotless, France decided to make a case out of it and fight to keep him as a political refugee, all the more considering he is from Italian extraction and had applied for Italian citizenship. He would have to serve a short sentence in France, but he would not be taken away his whole life like in the US.

So there it goes, for the first time in years, I feel patriotic, and I want to say: Vive La France!

French Champagnista V

Matthew Williamson's Easter Magic

Do you remember getting so excited on the morning of Easter when you were a kid, because you would start the day with the traditional egg hunt, and then spend the next 15 hours stuffing your face with chocolate? Chocolate for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner... and chocolate indigestion for bed time... Ah, the simple pleasures of childhood, magic for the kids, nightmare for the mums, how I miss them!

It is a bit sad, but chocolate doesn't get me excited anymore, apart from this critical moment when I am craving to go back home with a boy and noone is available: no better palliative than a kinder surprise then!

This year however, I find myself excited like a 5 year old all over again... No chocolate in my near future, but a very special designer Easter treat, and let's be honest, designer is so much more gratifying than Lindt bunnies!

A mere few days before his high street collection hits the rails of H&M on 23rd April, Matthew Williamson releases two Easter surprises as colourful as his SS09 collection: a faceted glass brooch, and this wonderfully elegant silk square. I am not as versed in accessories as in clothes, even if I will confess I love statement earrings, but this scarf is the prettiest thing I have seen in ages, and the print reminds me of Klimt's dreamy paintings: slipping it on would be like wearing Le Baiser around your neck. Sensual.

Even better, for these 2 items' pre-Easter release between 8 and 10 April, the Bruton store will treat everyone who passes their treshold with champagne and Hummingbird Bakery cupcakes ornate in the rainbow colours of Williamson's SS09 collection: Matthew knows how to make Easter pop!

Champagnista V

Topshop makes its move...to NYC!

It has been a long time coming and finally it has happened- Topshop has opened in New York City- yay!

It is located on Broadway in the SoHo area of lower Manhattan- a fabulous location by the way for all you New York virgins. With four fabulous floors selling fashion must haves it is ceratinly a shopaholic's dream.

The floors include three for Topshop and a basement level for Topman. With its new-look interior designed by London Consultancy Dalziel + Pow it certainly has a strong reference to the UK, and embraces the Britishness of the brand with the exterior displaying punk-style Union Jack posters on which a black and white image of Kate Moss has been super imposed.

With other images that include the London Eye, red buses and signs for Regent Street it certainly screams "london fashion has arrived, and is here to stay".

Continuing on, the ground floor carries clothing and accessories, and there is the DJ balcony at the rear of the shop and a lounge area with white leather sofas that trades upon the brand’s UK heritage with liberal use of the Union Jack.

With Topshop NY comes the usuals that we have at our very own London store- the Kate Moss boutique, the Moto denim shop and the “Shoe Lounge” and ingerie department. They have even bought the well known shoe shop Office along for the ride.

Topshop NY is tempting shoppers with promotions galore such as the “limited edition Cool Britannia” t-shirt for shoppers spending over $100 (£69.50), as well as the chance to win a trip to London Fashion Week- wow wee right!

So it seems that finally a little something from the small island known as England has finally managed to come across the pond and be loved and adored by the hard to please Americans. With yet to be confirmed US expansion plans for more stores to open in Miami, Los Angeles, Las Vegas and Boston, I feel that it is a fair trade for all the American stores that we have gracing their presence in London, except for Madonna, they can have her back- we can't be any fairer than that right?!?

Champagnista M

G20, whats that? The new mini skirt?

With all the drama of the G20- protesters vs banker/city folk, I ask you which side of the fence have you perched your pert gym bottom on? because i have come to the conclusion that us fashionista's (well at least 90% of us- the other 10% who probably do care are those hip alternative fashion sort who worship more Pop [is it even around anymore???] rather than Vogue) do not really give a flying Jimmy Choo who gets wacked by a flying dustbin or a bowler hat. As long as we are kept in next seasons clothes and sipping free champagne (not brute dahling) we will continue to be oblivious to what the G20 is all about- then again maybe i just speak for myself [sigh]!



Champagnista M