Wednesday, 11 June 2008

Sexy Stance for the Grads

Hello blogosphere,

My mother was right - I am a winner! Actually, I always have been. When I was a child, I was quite the tow-headed OCD competition freak. I entered everything and I won a lot: boomboxes, little torches, bright yellow stilts, tickets to see While You Were Sleeping... friends, I was little short of a pre-teen Scarface except instead of cocaine, I was drowning in crossword puzzles and a promotional tape of Madonna's Immaculate Collection. Money, Women, Power etc. Fine times.

Anyway, yesterday I received a hand-addressed envelope through my letterbox and lo! it was from Catwalk Queen and contained two tickets to the Education Day at Graduate Fashion Week where these fine people (and others) will be doing their best Q&A:


Lorraine Candy, Editor of Elle UK


Henry Holland


And it's all hosted by that lady what is off The Clothes Show

How exciting, right? I also get free entry into the exhibition at Earls Court so I can peruse the Graduate collections and hopefully talk to some new and interesting designers. I shall have to wear big confident shoulders to give me courage. I was feeling very fancy-pants and high end getting to attend the Q&A and all, until I read this blurb on the website:

The Education Day is primarily aimed at school groups and those at Further Education Colleges. However individual tickets can be purchased, but under 16’s must be accompanied by an adult.

Wow. Catwalk Queen didn't mention that in their competition blurb. Apparently, I'm gonna be rollin' with the jailbait. Not quite as exclusive and fashiony as I first hoped and the focus will be on Higher Education in fashion but you never know what fascinating tidbits could drop, especially if I ask pertinent questions. Either that, or I attach myself to Lorraine Candy like a particularly ardent Giant Squid until she gives me a job at Elle. I could write that Mademoiselle bullshit anyday of the week.


Artist's impression of Becky climbing the career ladder.
Also pictured: Iain R Webb (with axe, moustache)

So, I received the tickets yesterday and I'm going tomorrow. Things move fast in fashion and fashion-related edu-tainment, huh? What does one wear in this particular field? I've half a mind to tear my wardrobe apart. Bear in mind also that I'll be swinging on by the Topshop flagship to check out the Helmut Newton self-portrait machine. My vanity wouldn't allow anything less - plus Susie Bubble made it look so much fun!



When I take my turn, I'll be channeling these Helmut Newton pics:


Elizabeth Taylor, a distorted reflection and a parrot. Yes. Yes.



Paris Vogue: April 1977 cover





Oh Iman, I love you so much. You rock a turban even better than Andre Leon Talley.

In summation: I'm going to throw a hissy fit if Topshop doesn't let me show my boobs. You can make me up with Nars and throw designer/high street collaborations at me, it don't mean nothing without an angry Newton nipple in the photo. Though I ain't got a Newton model body, I love the strength in these women's stance, the confrontation or self absorbation (actually we could argue the socio-political question of 'gaze' and those ankle shackles in the Imam photo, but I'm certain that both she and Newton are fully aware of the fetishistic and racial implications of the image. I like that it's dangerous and ambiguous and they're dancing on that line -it makes me think of an updated version of Manet's Olympia, and what with the direction of the maid's gaze, the curtain and the reiteration of that paisley wallpaper, I wouldn't be shocked if it was a direct influence) and I want to celebrate that.


Olympia by Edouard Manet (1863)

Hmm. Got a bit academic for a second. Don't worry. There'll be plenty of boobs tomorrow. I have to go and pack and practice my power pose. Wish me luck, internet friends.

Your pal,
Becky

3 comments:

Susanna said...

Can't wait to see your pic from the HN machine...
Susie from Style Bubble

gilda said...

oh wow that picture of iman is incredible

Imelda Matt said...

Oh no you didn't! Calling on mother Liz sans parrot and pills! Imelda could have fedex'd you both. The parrot may not have survived but that's what the pills are for, no?