'Making Connections' E/P Project

Monday 19 May 2008

The Project

Have you ever turned up to a party where you didn't know anyone? People look at you sideways going: Who's that in the corner by the sandwhiches?

That was pretty much how it felt coming to Parsons. However, that's not to say that the staff and students weren't extremely friendly and accomodating once they knew who we were, it just could have done with a little more self promotion from the British end. We all knew Parsons' significance in the fashion world, but it seemed like we were lacking as an institution in ours. Ex SIAD students have gone on to do great things and we have extremely well respected staff and guest lecturers that could have done with a little more of a fanfare.

Aside from this the trip was extremely enlightening both for the picture of American fashion that it offered, and the experience of spending a week in New York. For those interested in fashion design it was an invaluable experience, giving students a chance to witness first hand the birth of New York's freshest talent. For others the project provided an opportunity to make contacts in a city that undoubtedly leads the way in making big bucks from style. And finally, whatever your interest or angle, experiencing New York first hand is something defiantely not to be missed.

What I learnt in New York

Three valuable lessons.

1. American fashion is commercially cut throat. Driven by sales and sales only, creative whimsy is given short shrift, as demonstrated by the retail oriented questions the Parson's students were asked during their presentations. Also demonstrated by the student's incredulity that a designer like Gareth Pugh even exists, let alone thrives, in London.

2.You always need a business card. The Americans i met all seemed suprised that i didn't have a business card. It was a bit like...who's this chump without one? The importance implaced on this tiny piece of self promotion has not diminished, despite Bret Easton Ellis' best efforts.

3.New York is not a friendly city. The British deride Richard Curtis films for presenting a ridiculously twee picture of England where everyone lives on the South Bank or in sweet little cottages deep in the countryside. It never occured to me that the Americans i met would be anything less than charmed by my British accent as demonstrated in the movies. That was pretty soon knocked out of me after run ins with uninterested shop assistants, members of the general public bordering on psychotic and anyone who wasn't looking for a tip. It comes to something when you're missing London's 'friendly' atmosphere.

Monday 7 April 2008

The final ten places

11. Camden
Quite apart from the chance to run into Amy Winehouse off her head on crack, Camden offers just about the most diverse group of people you'll see in one place. There's tattooed goths, market traders, lanky musicians, foreign food stalls, French tourists and just about everyone else for good measure. Look around the market for jewellery and the like, then walk up over the lock and into the warren of charity shops, moroccan emporiums and chinese takeaway bars. Like Blade Runner, only with more slogan t shirts.

12. Dover street market
The only place to really buy cutting edge clothes in London. Full of Japanese conceptual artists, baffling fashion/art installations and a hushed, reverential silence. Also close to both the Ritz and 50 Dover street, another Movida esque club. I'm not sure that's relevant but it's nice to know all the same.

13. The South Bank
Leave Waterloo station by exit 6 and you're a stone's throw from the South Bank, home to the London eye (pointless), the British film institute, a beautifully jarring concrete ogre of a building and a general relaxed ambience. This is the best place to come and do nothing except stroll, people watch and eventually find yourself at the Tate Modern, which is always worth a visit.

14. Cuabana's restaurant, Waterloo
Take exit 1 this time and you'll eventually find Cuabana's, a Cuban restaraunt that does comfort food like no other. Sweet potato mash, creamed spinach, mince parcels and lethal Mojitos. If you've spent a day fighting the masses of London in the pouring rain, Cubana's will be like a hot bath for your soul.

15. Greenwich
The place where time began, Greenwhich has a beautiful park, a good little market and brilliant views of the city but not much in the way of fashion. It wouldn't be on the list but last week I found a Lanvin tie for a tenner in a shop called The Observatory. Enough said.

16. Hoxton
This is another East London area that's become a bit too big for it's boots but like Brick Lane, it does have it's good points. You'll see some crrrraaazzzy people wearing neon clothes and plenty of fashionable types swanning about like they're Jefferson Hack. Also home to Jay Jopling's White Cube gallery and The Hoxton Bar and Grill where Boom Box is held. If you read Dazed and Confused you'll love it here.

17. Saville Row
The problem with Saville Row is that the world's finest tailors do not operate like normal shops. There are no window displays to marvel at, and you can't just go in and try something on, because they haven't made it for you yet. Still, worth going just to catch sight of the best dressed men you're ever likely to see, going about their daily business as if in t shirt and shorts.

18. Leicester Square
Hmmm, another dubious one this, but if ever a place could make you thank God for having taste, Leicester square on a Friday night is it. Walk through the warzone of chain pubs and fast food outlets, quietly rejoicing that you aren't wearing beige loafers and a check shirt decorated in your own vomit.

19. The Westbourne pub, Westbourne park tube.
If you can't be arsed to get to Clapham, The Westbourne is a more than ample substitute for Sunday drinking/ posing. Beautiful, friendly people, rare groove on the stereo and not a beer soaked yob in sight. Also a very real chance of being invited back to a rich person's pad for an after party, which is always nice.

20. Agent Provocateur, Broadwick Street
A 50's pin up style underwear shop that sells the best knickers in London? And it's full of beautiful women covered in interesting tattoos who like to flirt? And your girlfriend will be thrilled to know you've been, as long as you bring her something back. What was the address again?

Get your fash' on in London

In no particular order, twenty places worth seeing if you're in London.

1. Brick Lane
For the last ten years people have been raving on about how cool East London is, and for a while it was. Recently though it's become a victim of it's own success, full of wanky scensters wearing shoes that don't match. However, Brick Lane and the surrounding area still has some quirky independant shops selling young labels, plenty of clubs to get lost in, regardless of what day it is and so many curry houses you'll feel like you're in Delhi.

2. Selfridges
In my own experience, Selfridges is a beast so large that only the bravest shopper will tame it. So many brands, styles, trends and outlets in one place is mind boggling, but if you're looking for everything from Topman to Tom Ford under one roof then this is the place.

3. Brown's store, South Molton Street
I used to work for a stylist who borrowed a king's ransom of Raf Simons and Lanvin shop stock from Brown's on the pretext of using it in a fashion shoot. After he'd worn it all to an awards bash and gone clubbing in it afterwards i had to iron and return it like nothing had happened. I've never been back, which is a shame because it's a superb place to buy beautiful clothes away from the crowds of day trippers that Selfridges attracts. Better still, it's extremely close to Bond street Tube.

4. Liberty of London, Department store.
An oasis of Victorian charm set in the maelstrom that is Carnaby street, as soon as you walk through Liberty's doors you know this is not the average department store. There's something about the place that lulls and relaxes you making it entirely possible to spend hours browsing the racks of Dries, McQueen and just about anyone else who matters. They've also opened an old fashioned male barber shop, Murdoch's, where a cut throat shave and something for the weekend is at your fingertips.

5. Koko, club/venue, Camden.
This time last year, if you wanted the Ibiza experience on a Saturday night, you could head to Turnmills, The Cross, Canvas or The Key and completely let go. Sadly, thanks to the relocation of the Eurostar and complaints from residents, all four of these immense clubs have closed. Yes London has a Pacha, and a Ministry of Sound, but they suck. Koko though, is big, full of character and an epic venue for the world's best Dj's. Rejoice.

6. Movida bar and night club.
Now bear with me here. A vaccuous, wannabe ridden den of half stars and Z listers this may be but regardless of that, Movida should be experienced. Why? Because in this country, the beautiful youth of London's surrounding provinces rarely travel in to London, preferring instead to be big fish in small ponds. When they do though, they all look like superstars. They are immaculately dressed, groomed and styled. The men straighten their hair without a trace of irony, wear t shirts cut to the navel with ease and never, ever go without fake tan. Not necessarily everyone's scene, but a sight to behold nevertheless.

7. Soho
Soho is a warren of clubs, bars and weird little shops that don't really serve any purpose. However, on any given night of the week you are likely to stumble across the best and worst of the British fashion scene either having a drink after a hard day's styling or getting 'papped' falling out of a club. An excellent place to go and soak up the atmosphere created when fashion, crime, sex and celebrity all collide in an area no bigger than a square mile.

8. Topshop, Oxford Circus
Like an enormous fashion warship sailed off course and crashed straight into the of capital, Topshop reigns over Oxford street, London and indeed the entire nation as the most comprehensive place to find new trends. There's a vintage section, a high fashion section, a basics section and, praise be, a shoe section too. Everything is cheap, most of it is cool, and there's always someone interesting to stare at.

9. The Whitehouse, Clapham.
A short train ride out of the capital and you're in Clapham, the home of London's after party. Maybe it's the inviting space of the common, maybe it's the number of dingy bars, maybe it's the high volume of Australians in one place. Who knows? Whatever it is, this is where you'll find the capital's bright young things trashed but 'fashed' to the max every Sunday. Apparently dressing is easier when you've done drugs.

10. Floridita restaurant, Wardour street
Amazing food, even better cocktails and a live salsa band featuring the little one from the Chuckle Brothers ( Americans, type it into youtube), what's not to love?

Ten down, ten to go. They'll be up by tonight I promise.

Friday 7 March 2008

Personal Introduction

In all honesty, blogging is not my thing. I've never kept a diary, i've never written down my reflections on the day and i've certainly never felt the need to share said reflections with strangers on the internet. As one of my colleagues recently pointed out, if a man stood in the street shouting to everyone about what he'd done that day and how it made him feel, people wouldn't listen, they'd just ignore him, or at most have him sectioned. That said, it is a neccessity for me to write this blog, and neccessity is the mother of all invention, so what's the worst that can happen? However, before i begin, let me make it clear that you shouldn't expect any self indulgent drivel here. There will be no moaning about the people i work with, no whining about the weather, no bleating about the state of my skin or the failure of my relationships. What there will be is descriptions of the things that interest and amuse me. There will probably be some stuff that offends you, maybe things you don't agree with, but certainly not anything that has been written badly, and that is a promise. So, my name is Matthew, I'm 23 and i've almost finished my degree in fashion journalism. I've written and styled for Arena magazine, assisted on shoots for Pop and am currently writing the style section for FHM magazine as a freelancer. I've been hit on by the head of KCD, come closer than i'd have liked to kissing Jody Harsh (she's a drag queen) and once gained entry to a Louis Vuitton party by pretending to be Tim Blanks. But i don't want to tell you about any of that. I'd rather tell you about where i'm from. That place is Woking, a small commuter town about 45 minutes from London. Depression hangs over Woking like a fog, clouding the minds of its youth, shackling them to it's grey, characterless walls. The neon light of the fast food outlets and arcade blinds the residents, stopping them from looking any further afield, so people don't know any better. Certainly they've been to London, but they didn't understand it. Real life has been right in front of them but the people of Woking can't see it, content as they are to stand in Leicster Square drinking overpriced alcohol and cautiously clock watching, terrified that they might miss the last train home and be trapped in the city overnight. Drunkenly they wander, ten abreast, singing songs and throwing fowl language around like it was loose change, their heavily gelled hair standing stiffly to attention in the night air. Terrified of anything new, they mock those not in shirt and shoes and franticly search the narrow corridors of their minds for an insult worthy of an unusually dressed man: You fucking gay boy! Woking you see, sums up everything that is wrong with this country. A small, insular town full of people too afraid of change, difference and diversity to embrace it. This is most acutely obvious when you look at the way the people of Woking are dressed. There is no individuality. People don't like to stand out, they like to blend in, look the part, fade away. And so, it is with heavy heart that i present Woking to you, the reader, as the antithesis of everything that I believe in and long may it serve as a reminder never to mock, deride or belittle what we don't yet understand.

The Four Ages of Fashion

Hello,

So for some reason my original post/ introduction doesn't seem to be up here, i'll try and rectify that asap but in the mean time my name is Matt, i'm 23, i'm straight, i like to write.

Now i'm going to cheat a little bit with the answer to the two recent questions posed about London and New York. Please note that this is not becasue i'm lazy, it's just that i think i can kill two birds with one stone.

There seems to be a fairly well defined set of stages within the fashion world that are represented by the four main fashion capitals, sort of like the four ages of fashion. They run in the following order:

Firstly, London.
London is the birth place of innovative fashion, the enfant terrible, the sulking teenager. This is the place to come if you want to be different, if you want to be noticed, it's where you come to go through fashion puberty. Each year the colleges of London give birth to hundreds of naive, awkward, gangly designers trying desperately to get their foot on the first rung of the ladder. In London a designer is free to do whatever they please, to show off, to shock, to scream for attention. It's the fashion equivalent of a child standing on its head in the middle of a family gathering; all the adults smiling dismissively at the precocious youth. The adults know that in a few years they'll have matured and will be embarrassed when reminded of their behaviour. It's this spirit though that makes London what it is, a breeding ground for dangerously exciting creativity.

Next comes Paris.
The spotty teenager's skin has cleared up and they are no longer so desperate to shock. Mindful of the incredible couture heritage that floods the city with romance, the designers are mindful not to mar things with brash, provocative statements. The adult's approval at the family gathering is still important but where there were once acrobatics, there is now an affected air of sophistication that is almost, but not quite right.

From Paris to New York and a coming of age.
New York is where lives in fashion are made. There's no childish innocence to fall back on. No Gallic indifference to hide behind. Either you make it here or you don't. New York is where shit goes down. By this time, you won't be standing on your head at the family gathering because it'll be you whose organising it. New York is the sophisticated adult that London hadn't realised existed and Paris tried so hard to be. It doesn't care about letting everyone know how dangerous or sophisticated it is, it just does it, and it does it better than any other city on the planet.

Finally, Milan.
Milan is the final stage in the four ages of fashion because it's where the serious players reside. The break neck speed and cut throat nature of New York has slowed to a reverential pace that speaks of confidence, maturity and security. Milan doesn't care about shock tactics. It doesn't care about feined sophistication and it doesn't care about success because it's been there and it's done it all. What Milan cares about is design, beauty and style. New York might have been organising the family get together, but only because it was Milan's wedding anniversary.

Tuesday 22 January 2008

Other E/P Project Members' Blogs

'Making Connections' E/P Project - Matt Hambly