All these fresh cotton dresses, often with bare shoulders, striped or with gingham prints and the omnipresent ruffles, can only be traced back to a single wonderful person: Brigitte Bardot.
The young Brigitte Bardot of the 60s, ho spent her summers on St. Tropez dressed in gingham dresses and capri pants is one of the most distinctive things ever.
The perfect diva: beautiful with her disheveled hair, totally flirtatious, but with the face of someone who doesn’t have a care in the world, reminiscent of the eternal nymphet described by Nabokov.
Many are divided between Audrey and Marilyn, often generating epic feuds, but I’ve always liked Brigitte, and the image of her freely roaming the little cobbled streets of the Côte d’Azur in her capri pants and with Alain Delon by her side.
So there we go, all these ruffles, flounces and frills that have been infesting dresses, tops, swimwear and probably even underwear, remind me of her and I love them.
Having undergone summer trends of neon colours, fringes, colour block and hairy birkenstocks, this year fashion has thankfully reprived us of hideous trends.
After succumbing to mom jeans, boyfriend jeans, oversized sweaters, culottes pants, off the shoulder tops and bodysuits I frankly do not feel in a position to judge anyone.
Fundamentally I’m the first one who should feel ashamed for their dubious fashion choices, but no, I too often still comply to buying something simply because I saw it on Alexa Chung, totally uncaring of the fact that I may or may not look like a badly dressed dwarf belonging to Durins lineage.
I go on without a care, convince myself that those baggy flowy mid-calf pants must be mine and nothing, not even the bitter reality reflected in the changing room mirror can stop me: I have to buy them.
I do the same thing with t-shirts. I’ve bought: tigers, eyes, taglines, logos and stripes. Think of an idiot trend that has lasted no more than four months from the past year; I almost certainly have it in my wardrobe, at least in the low cost version.
All this to say that this year the t-shirt style worth buying, as Alexa Chung as demonstrated, is the retro 70s tee.
You know those slightly ‘faded’ t-shirts?
With the contrasting coloured crew neckline?
With vintage logos?
Or with slightly hippy prints?
The mood is therefore clear, and it’s once again Starksy & Hutch, the Jefferesons and Farrah Fawcett. You can find these tees literally everywhere, from Pull&Bear, to Topshop to Etsy and various vintage stores.
I recently watched a documentary on Scientology, because I was bored wanted to understand a bit more about the dissolute life of Tom Cruise, John Travolta and Co. and also understand why someone might decide to entrust thousands or even millions or dollars to a sect that promises to put your spirit in contact with a parallel universe and whose founder was a science fiction author. (In practice I wanted to empathise with Katie Holmes who left Tom precisely because of Scientology, and who now demands a little more money from him for Suri, because $30,000 a month clearly is no longer enough. Definitively.)
I’m mentioning this documentary because I can’t forget the tale of one of these scientology members, who happened to have reached level OT 3, also known as the Wall of Fire, and was therefore worthy of being made aware of an important truth. He was told that, due to a curse by Xenu, our problems are caused by the spirits of aliens who were cast from a spaceship into a volcano millions and millions of years ago: these spirits take possession of us at birth, and we carry them with us through life in the form of disturbances and psychic issues and dramas.
The slightly appalled adept wondered if the story was an intelligence test, and when he realised they were serious and truly believed the Xenu story, he thought that perhaps it was time to get the hell out.
All this to say that, after seeing these amazing items, I asked myself the same question: is it an intelligence test, is it Xenus wardrobe or is Jeremy Scott just taking the piss?
If you wanted to buy everything in the above picture it would amount to a total of €13.804 (well spent). And in detail:
As is known to everyone including hermits, in the end it all comes back: plastic chocker necklaces from our primary school days, hair trends, jeans our mothers wore when they were young and even ex boyfriends.
Sooner or later it was bound to happen that, after bomber jackets, down jackets would also start creeping their way into street style looks by fashion people who live on bread, Chanel and Moschino covers.
After all, they wore flared wool sweatpants with hairy Birkenstock sandals, what harm could a down jacket do? In comparison it’s the equivalent of party wear.
On the down jacket, in theory, I’d say this: a nice thick coat is much better.
Of course, that cloth Marni coat won’t keep you warm when there’s -15℃ and in that case it’s better not to be an ostrich, to choose life, avoid a bronchitis-pneumonia-plauge, a death by hypothermia and go down either one of the following routes: Cynical rich Russian wrapped in fur or a decent respectable thick coat.
Here we have some photos that testify the return of the down jacket.