Spicebomb

The other evening I was casually sipping champagne at the Charlotte Street Hotel and catching up with other fashion bloggers I haven't seen since last year when, subito, we were kidnapped by hunky men all dressed in black, dragged across London to an abandoned parking garage, packed into an industrial lift, led into a pitch black room and then were subjected to an explosion of ridiculous proportions.  No, this was not just another Wednesday night (or the Grindr-fuelled fulfilment of some bizarre personal rape fantasy) but in fact the elaborate UK launch of Viktor & Rolf's new men's perfume, Spicebomb.  

If this is the world of Viktor & Rolf then I'm happy to pull up a chair and stay a while.  Pink peppercorn martinis and buckets of champagne served up in a grimy warehouse space, molecular gastronomy finger-food (I particularly liked the spherification of olive but nobody else seemed to be a fan...) and a glitter bomb that covered us and our drinks in red sparkles.  Yup, I could get used to this. [Stasie's note: we've actually been invited into the V&R world once before!]

Oh, and I almost forgot about the perfume!  It has a spice and muskiness that certainly marks it out as the masculine counterpart to Flowerbomb, but the almost artificial sweetness would probably be better described as (I can't believe I'm going to use this word) metrosexual (*cringe*).  This is definitely one for the gays, of which we are a fan :-)

xxx
Duck

Jean-Paul Gaultier menswear A/W 2012

Being born in the 80s but a true child of the 90s I grew up with the glamorous fashion ideal of Cindy, Naomi and Linda necking a bottle of Bolli, snorting a line of coke and climbing off their Greek shipping heirs' laps long enough to swagger and pout their way down a catwalk, keeping just enough energy to shower their chosen designer with kisses and flowers at the end of the spectacle.  Then I went to London Fashion Week and saw the reality of sexless twigs marching stony-faced to some avant-garde dance music, the whole show being over in under 5 minutes.

THANK GOD I WENT TO PARIS.  Jean-Paul Gaultier clearly had his formative years in just the right decade and, thanks to being invited to his latest menswear show, I can now say I know what a défilé should feel like.  Held in his own three-storey high salle des fêtes (that's what perfume money gets you), we drank champagne for 45 minutes before the show began and continued for a good hour afterwards.  Models brought us macarons and a German TV channel interviewed me for the national news, all as I slid deeper and deeper into a delirious stupor.  The feeling was compounded by being bumped-up to the front row.  And then the show started... 

Andrej Pejic! Tattooed abs! Models climbing the scaffolding! I may have let out an audible squeal.  Apparently everyone else picked up on the theme of the show as soon as the music began - Sherlock Holmes's Discombobulate theme track.  Unfortunately I don't watch shit movies like that but I soon caught JP's drift with the brick-prints (a 'trend', apparently), waistcoats, jauntily angled hats and sweeping capes.  The styling really tied the somewhat eclectic collection together and amongst it all I picked out some truly wonderful pieces.  The black jackets and coats with a pixelated green and silvery white tweed running through, leather highlights on cuffs and sleeves, a floor-length black fur lined gilet and a fabulous cropped tailcoat.  The swooshy, pleated black skirt was infinitely better than the JW Anderson one I was hankering after last season and has instantly shot to the top of my list for A/W 12.  And, finally, someone showed velvet/velour tops that I've been dreaming of for the past year! Oh, and they come in wine red with classic JPG sailor stripes? Who am I to argue.       

By the way, thought you might enjoy this picture I snapped of Yu Masui before the show - are the ears Katie Eary by any chance?

And for those of you who don't go to the cinema to watch action movies (like me), the strangely sinister yet up-beat inspiration for the show...

xxx

Duck

Plastic fantastic

The word genius gets bandied about quite a lot in the fashion world and I'm not convinced it's ever justified in such a context.  But if there is one contemporary menswear designer I could even consider coming close to my definition for the term it would be Raf Simons, particularly as seen through the lens of the Jil Sander brand he currently heads.  It seems like every season Raf comes up with a singular piece of design, that extra special item that works its way deep into my subconscious and continuously nags at me for the six months after fashion week until it finally hits the stores and I am forced to reach into my ever shrinking coin purse.  Each cycle this article of lust will convince me to pay full price, right at the start of the season (the floral t-shirt in my header bar would be the perfect case in point).  It's an illness, and I've got it bad.

I've already raved about the Jil Sander Spring collection here and here.  The only decision left was whether I need the python print shoes, a python print t-shirt or one of the incredible strap-on harness bags?  I think from the photos you can tell how I chose to answer that question.  Sure it fits my iPad but AS IF I'm wasting this baby on carrying some mere electricals around.  This PVC/leather beauty would be much more suited to holding, say, show tickets (already done in Paris where I finally got my hands on it after several emails back and forth with the store), a laminated photo of Anastasia or - dare I double-dose on the plastic? - my Chris Kane squidgy clutch.  Anna even suggested wearing it sporran-style which kind of works as a first defence cock-block but, since it can easily be pushed aside, hardly functions effectively as a chastity belt.     

Jil Sander iPad harness worn with a Marni jacket, Over The Stripes buckle printed t-shirt, Odyn Vovk trousers and a Maria Francesca Pepe tubular bracelet.

Oh, and with the fashion weeks over again, I now know which idea Raf has implanted in my brain for next season.  The leather paper lunch bag.  It will be done (so mote it be).   

Runway snaps from Style.com.

xxx 

Duck

P.S. Does anybody else think the internal lattice looks like a double layer of graphene?  *geek alert*

Issey Miyake menswear A/W 2012

It was such an honour to be invited to Paris to see the latest Issey Miyake menswear collection, as well as the main reason I capitulated and booked the Eurostar when I really should have been working.  You know I've written about the brand several times, I've bought pieces when I can afford them, and I've pretty much worshipped at this iconic Japanese stalwart for many a year (although not perhaps as fervently as Brandon Acton Bond!).  While other fashion houses often veer off in new directions with each head designer, Issey has stayed true to its original ethos even under the new creative leadership of a four-man design team.  But that's not to say the Issey Miyake man isn't evolving; Issey's certainly still relevant and chic in that kooky, easy-going way it always has been.

I have to admit I wasn't really a fan of the sportier options on show - was that a pair of jeans?! - but I realise I'm probably not the typical menswear customer and there were still lots of reinterpretations of house classics for me to enjoy.  The jackets came out top, either with a tartan that bled into black (kind of like what Shaun Samson has been doing in London since his CSM graduation) or with graded and washed-out stripes in red or blue.  There was an awesome red poncho that would look INSANE dashing around Mayfair and some black plastic polygonal gilets and jackets that were beautiful though, I'm guessing, a tad uncomfortable.  Given my current accessories obsession it's also not surprising that my favourite piece of the lot was a simple black bag worn over one shoulder and slung across the chest.  There's just something about practical accessories worn in unexpected locations that's really getting me going right now...     

My favourite pieces head-on as stolen from the Style.com app:

I'm still thinking about that bag...

XXX
Duck