How many times did your dad screech at your 18 year old self that less is more when you were tottering out the front door with your gaggle of gals for a night out, referring to your make-up and not the ridiculously short skirt you were sporting obvs? For me, the saying really does crop up time and time again and for this fascinator less really is more.
Stripping it back to basics, focusing on composition, highlighting the backward positioned shimmering petals against the deep round base. Completely hand stitched, it was both painful on the fingers and terribly time consuming but, my ooh my, was it worth the swear words! The result is definitely one of the most effortlessly elegant accessories I’ve made to date, a sophisticated match for a plush party any time of the year.
Hot pink, light pink, champagne pink, piggy pink, carnation pink or paradise pink? The possibilities of pinks are endless and if you thought standing in front of one of B&Q’s colour charts was a confusing kerfuffle of colour, boy were you wrong. Forget 50 shades of Grey, with Wiki’s tints of pink you can even choose a nationality for your chosen shade and since the tones stretch from France to New York it is hardly surprising we women find it a struggle to match our dresses with our many accessories. But rather than rant that we have every notable pink colour of handbag bar the one we are really looking for, I’m just going to enjoy the perfect match created below.
Tickle me pink.
(Quite possibly with a blend of shocking pink and a hint of cherry blossom pink too!)
As the Tate Modern is celebrating a lady who is often praised in the art world and forgotten for her fashion, I too want to share a little love for Sonia Delaunay and her decorative, abstract design.
Known best for her use of colour, Delaunay had a creative harmony between form and the rhythms in colour that changed the game of fashion. I first came across her work post A levels, pre university, at college, where her illustrations ignited an excitement in me. The idea that the boundaries of clothes could be eliminated, meant the boundaries of fashion could be eliminated, and women could just wear art in the way Delaunay just painted a pattern over the top of a womens silhouette.
She boldly eradicated the need to colour in between the lines. Her work reminds us that fashion is art and in that she changed the rules for fashion and fashion illustration. She painted a world that broke the rules and gave us a game that no longer has any, making both the catwalks and the pages of fashion a whole lot more interesting.
April brings many of my favourite things; cute little bunnies, chocolate eggs in abundance, the occasional sunny day and daffodils. But my fling with spring doesn’t end there, and it definitely doesn’t end with the dainty daff. With the choice of all the new year blooms, comes the chance to try something new and so came this seasonal accessory, a perfect pairing for some spring time galivanting.
Christmas brings an excess of tinsel, tiaras, turkey and tantrums and leaves very little time, or energy for creativity and folding of silks and sinamay and the stitching of flowers and feathers. Then came the February blues, not January in my case as I’m quite a fan of the leftovers and failed attempts at new beginnings. February brought one great big snotty slap in the face in the form of the flu. My first experience. My first, month long experience of resting, and sleeping, and sleeping and then resting, and Oh! the boredom! The only positive was the subsequent weight loss, which FYI, is sooo not worth it, so please if you can, always take vitamin C. But after February comes March, the best month of the year. Why I hear you ask? Why, it’s my birthday month! Yes, yes I do behave like a spoilt teenager and enjoy dragging out the celebrations for weeks on end and as result, it is now April. APRIL. I am a few pounds heavier and a few pounds poorer and clearly currently a failing blogger, so it is time to occupy my mind, my hands and my free moments with one of my favourite pastimes again… But in the mean time, here is a few snaps of 2k15 so far.
It doesn’t matter if you love the minimalist or the maximalist when it comes to headpieces, there is no denying the beauty of the hats, crowns and veils that have graced the couture catwalks for many years and since I have been pretty poor on the creativity front of late, I’m sharing with you some of my famous favourites, to get the ball rolling and the needle and thread out again.
Philip Treacy’s dark beauties
McQueen’s honeycomb headpieces
Katsuya Kamo’s paper fashion for Karl Lagerfield’s Chanel Haute Couture S/S 2009
Christian Dior’s silver success
Piers Atkinson’s distinctive Paris creations
Jean Paul Gaultier’s 2010 feathers
The above images are not my own.
Sat here in a rather cosy nest of duvets watching the snow quickly turn to sleet and I’m struggling to figure out how it got to be the end of January. Where did Christmas go? I’m sure I didn’t eat enough sausage rolls, or drink enough cheap bubbly. It’s also just occurred to me that since I accidentally fell asleep and missed the all important count down to the New Year, I haven’t even set myself both the traditional and predictable resolution and promised myself that I will get that bikini bod for the summer and look like Beyonce next time I step off the treadmill.
Truth be told, despite being a big believer in cliches, I’m not really a fan of the new year, new me trend we all like to divulge in. No, not me. I’m more realistic, and this year more than ever I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the gym and I had no intention of ignoring my second favourite man, Terry, and his chocolate orange. But to my surprise, I have actually ventured to the gym in January! It may only have been the once, and I may have burnt more calories catching up with old colleagues rather than actually exercising, but it confirmed that my choice to gallivant around town, and the globe, working and playing is much more fun than getting sweaty anyway.
So, after my reflective trip on the gym I think it’s appropriate to create a slap dash jobbie of doing justice to 2014 and what was a truly incredible year for me personally and professionally. Despite loving a lengthy natter, I have decided to shut up now and roll with the famous, a picture is worth a thousand words. So here is my fun, food, friends and love filled 2014 in pictures, worth a couple hundred thousand words in my opinion.
Tonight I have been getting in to the Christmas spirit, preparing for the present wrapping and swirling delicate ribbons into long loose curls whilst watching my all time favourite Christmas film, Miracle on 34th Street, and munching on my first mince pie of the season. Talk about clichés, I know. Then, during the finale of the film, where I am yet again, screeching at the screen that I too, believe, believe in Santa Clause, I decided my time would be better spent making some sassy swirls to be worn to some swanky festivities. So the deliciously wrapped present idea was short lived, one hour and forty eight minutes to be precise, here’s to trusty tin foil, the most efficient, effective and shiny wrapping paper ever invented, and here’s to another new fascinating fascinator creation by yours truly.
It’s a Manc’s life. Oasis, the parker, oatcakes! Ay-upp, up north really does have it all, and along with these gems we have Manchester to thank for is their Christmas Market, responsible for turning even the biggest scrooge into a soppy bundle of love and cheer after a good old fashioned nosh and booze up.
I am going to keep this short and sweet and let the boys do the talking through some of the most famous, beautifully put song lyrics known to Mancunians and mankind. These are some family photos of our whirlwind visit to the glorious town. Cheese.
These could be the best days of our lives. But I don’t think we’ve been living very wise.
And all the roads we have to walk are winding, and all the lights that lead us there are blinding. There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don’t know how. Because maybe you’re gonna be the one that saves me, and after all you’re my wonderwall.
I hold my hands up. I have a problem, an addiction if you wish. A shoe addiction. My book shelves no longer hold books. Oh no. They are the home, the display if you may, for my trophies. My babies. My shoes. My often, so ugly they have to be beautiful shoes. The so ugly, they have to be beautiful and obviously so hideously painful they can never be worn, only to be showcased on my shelf, beautiful shoes. Alas! The details are irrelevant, I just love shoes. So since it is that time of year again, when I am compiling my christmas list, staying true to form and picking out my newest unnecessary favourites, I thought I would honour this task with an old drawing. A piece for my University interview, where I had to describe myself in pictures. This is the start of my collection, the first beautiful pair of shoes I invested in, drawn onto a desirable pair of pins from Vogue.
Shoes like that, or legs for that matter, really don’t need any explanation. They just need drawing.