Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Dan Hillier.

The world's attention seems to be squarely focused on East London this week, so I thought it appropriate to catalogue some of what I find inspirational about that oft depicted part of the city.

Last summer, some friends and I stumbled out of a rooftop party in East London, which had been put on by a super trendy PR firm.  It had been a thoroughly contemporary Shoreditch experience: lots of lithe men with rolled up pant cuffs and striped tops, lots of boyish young women with angular haircuts and tiny trapeze dresses.  The DJ had hit the perfect level of irony, and the vodka drinks were warm but strong.  As we hit the street, we were drawn to an exhibition in the ground level windows of the building.  I now sometimes struggle to remember a time before the works of artist Dan Hillier were part of my world. 







In his surreal, at once fanciful and disturbing, Victorian-inspired etchings, Dan Hillier seems to capture a precarious, perilous state of womanhood.  Victorian society simultaneously idolized and brutalized women, placing women into a gilded cage that forced them to live up to unrealistic expectations of angelic womanhood, on pain of falling from those dizzying heights into the hellish plight of the "fallen woman".   That woman had the capacity to be angel or beast, but never human, seems clear in Hillier's work, and the women in his pieces seem to dance on that precipice without fear of their doom.

For me, Hillier's work and the places it took me were a rich seam of inspiration, more to come on that in the next post...

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Dustbowl Dame.

 You might be familiar with Chicago-based designers Creatures of the Wind, especially since they recently collaborated with J.Crew on a small, vibrant collection.


I'd recently become enamored of the label after seeing their FW12 ready to wear collection.






My favorite pieces from the collection (namely, the above) felt to me like a high-low mix of 1930's styles and influences.  It struck me that the 1930's is an era constantly invoked as the height of Hollywood glamour, a lifestyle in stark contrast to the experiences of the average American during the Great Depression.  Indeed, that heyday of Hollywood may have been buoyed up and sustained by the need for escapism at that time; movie ticket sales always rise during times of economic strife.

I imagined it quite likely a woman living in the direst of circumstances in the 30's might have escaped into a fantasy now and again, that she was Jean Harlow or Greta Garbo.  Or even just a fantasy that she  could experience the glamourous lifestyle afforded to Hollywood actresses.  

Moments in the above Creatures of the Wind line felt to me as just this: a harsh reality in the midst of escaping into a dream, an attempt to create a fantasy with only modest materials at hand.












Tuesday, June 26, 2012

NYFW dump.

That old thing?

3.1 Philip Lim



Band of Outsiders



Dsquared



J.Crew



Opening Ceremony



Rodarte



Thakoon Addition


Style.com.

Isabel López-Quesada.




Desire to Inspire.

Barracuda.

First in a series: re-hashing inspirational phases from the past 8 months.

For one of my classes this spring, I had to conceive a line of clothing based on a memory from my past.    I ultimately aborted this idea for something else, because I didn't have the time to explore this idea to the depth I would have liked.  I'm keeping this one in the bank for a future collection idea.

Since I was young, I was always captivated by this mental picture I had of a late 1970's "bad girl".  Feeding into this picture are the androgynous little Kristy McNichol, the senior girls from Dazed and Confused, and a lot of stories my mom told me about being in high school.





As a look it's boyish but sexualized, but it's the attitude that's key.




Watch this space.

Reunited and it feels so good.


Was it NOVEMBER I was drooling over Michelle Obama?  It feels like only yesterday.

Well things are a lot different around here than they were in November... the basketball court outside my window is standing room only, the sounds of reggae and the smell of barbeques and weed smoke are wafting in the air, and men's shirts seem to be in short supply if all the male toplessness is anything to go by.  Summer in the city.

Since November, all my oversharing has been funneled into classes at MassArt, where I'm studying fashion design... but the two-ish people who used to read this blog (Mom, and someone else) have voiced their displeasure, and I missed it also.  There's so much crap, I mean inspiring images, on my desktop and they've got to go somewhere...