This was the second of the two pieces I wrote, I thought the other one was an emotional tour de force and it would be scandalous if it wasn't entered for want of the required second piece. So I stayed up all night to write it and hand delivered it the next day, when the entry date closed. I didn't get selected and felt horribly ashamed of my rushed article. This morning I decided to clean out my documents folder of any out of date musings. I finally plucked up the courage to read this again and was pretty shocked by how NOT shit it was. I mean it's not perfect but it was a hell of a lot better than I thought. Have a read and bear in mind that it was written two years ago.
A Noble Distraction
"Some girls are bigger than others", a novel sentiment chimed out to mark the conclusion to Luella's display of cute utilitarianism. I scoffed a little into my cup of tea, thinking how effortlessly The Smith's answer our preoccupation with apparently simple diversities, yet frustratingly it bore no relation to the show I had just seen, unless that is if you count the plethora of hair styles on display as warranting the title.
Each look at Luella was presented with personal touches to add character and dimension to the clothes; explosions of frizzed and matted curls, back combed quiffs raised high and pink pigtails swinging on shoulders brought the collection to life with the individuality that we, the customer inevitably would. Each girl stood out from the last, drawing my attention so far skywards from the matter in hand that my MTV generation mind couldn't even begin to register the gold lame stripes, army issue pockets, zips, buttons, buckles and bows.
The celebration of any form of personal individuality is a somewhat refreshing sight to behold on the catwalk, so understandably when Giles Deacon raised the curtain on his new collection to reveal tattooed ladies and skin girls it shook proceedings up a notch. Deacon's 'non-models', cast by Francesca Burns from the streets of Camden and Deptford optimistically reconnected the dots between the international fashion stage and his "diverse customer", an inclusive portrait completed by 80's fashion heroine Rachel Williams, grey roots and all.
"I love character," said Deacon "and am bored of seeing shows that solely rely upon a certain type of girl". Like a fickle child, fashion now says that perfection is out and oodles of character is in, Beth Ditto being the minority mascot du jour. Ditto is the poster girl for being fat and fun, or more fashionably put "larger than life", she is this seasons hot accessory embodying our newly regained liberalism (lest we forget buxom Dahl), as seen sashaying on the arm of Karl Lagerfeld around Paris and plastered naked across a billboard at Shepherds Bush junction shifting untold copies of LOVE.
Putting the weight debate aside, it's true enough that character alone sells. In life big personality has the power to cover a multitude of sins, so by cavorting ours are they attempting to hide their own? Is the wily fashion conjurer distracting us with smoke and mirrors so as to shift our attention away from an unremarkable magazine debut or collection, or is it all just harmless fun?
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