THE ALCHEMY OF FASHION by Paula Lamares

If formerly the fashion was for the rich people, with the '60s fashion had come to be for teenagers. Yesterday, I saw two very interesting film documentaries - # September Issue (Vogue) and # Who Are You Polly Maggoo? - which made me think about the psychology of fashion and its recent evolution.

Se dantes a moda era para ricos, com os anos 60 a moda passou a ser para adolescentes. Ontem, vi dois documentários - #September Issue (Vogue) e #Who Are You Polly Maggoo?- muito interessantes que me fizeram reflectir sobre a psicologia da moda e a sua recente evolução.

The '60s were the decade of all breaks and fashion did not escape the changes that were felt at the time. The fashion thus became a political act of defiance and rebellious with a sexual connotation implied.

Os anos 60 foram a década de todas as rupturas e a moda também não escapou às mudanças que se fizeram sentir na época. A moda passou assim a ser um acto politico, de rebeldia e com uma conotação sexual implicita.

Fashion was once synonymous of a certain status and the feel of belonging to the mainstream rules, in the 60's fashion became an act of rebellion against the main values. The fashion was no longer belongs only to a certain elite, but created in the streets of the most cosmopolitan cities by the unhappy Youth  who disagree with the political and economic goals of the Western Society.

A moda que antes era sinónimo de status e pertença a um certo mainstream, passou a ser um acto de rebeldia contra os valores instituidos e as certezas do Sistema. A moda já não era pertença só de uma certa elite, mas, criada nas ruas das cidades mais cosmopolitas pelos jovens urbanos descontentes com o rumo politico e económico da Sociedade Ocidental.

Balmain t-shirt - trash chic!

Later it would be created artistic and aesthetic movements against the society of the Yuppies who lived too fast through the lust of the newly acquired money on Wall Street market - The called trash (garbage) moviment, young people badly dressed in ripped jeans. This trash's aesthetic was recently recovered by luxury brands such as Balmain. Now the coolest young Yuppies dressed luxury chic trash!

Mais tarde seria criado um movimento estético contra a sociedade de Yuppies que viviam demasiado depressa através do luxo das suas recém-adquiridas fortunas no mercado de Wall Street - o chamado Trash (lixo) Fashion, de jovens mal vestidos de jeans rotos. Esta estética do trash foi recentemente recuperada por marcas de luxo como Balmain. Agora os jovens Yuppies mais cool vestem Trash Chic com jeans e camisolas rasgadas a custarem milhares de dólares.

Currently the economic and financial crisis brought the fashion back into a classic elitism, leaving the rebellion for young designers fresh from the famous design schools such as Parsons in New York and Central Saint Martins College of Art & Design in London.

Actualmente a crise económica e financeira trouxe a moda novamente para um elitismo clássico, deixando a rebeldia para os jovens estilistas recem saídos das famosas escolas de design como a Parsons em Nova Iorque e a Central Saint Martins College of Art & Design em Londres.

Kawakubo para a H&M

The economic downturn made fashion designers more cautious and less willing to risk. Even those who did everything by the book find great difficult to impose their label, and eventually some of them even exit the market. The fashion World lose the rebellion and counter-current movement that characterized fashion since the 60 years to the end of the last Century.

A recessão económica tornou os estilistas e criadores de moda mais cautelosos e menos dispostos a arriscar. Mesmo aqueles que fizeram tudo by the book têm dificuldades em se impor e acabam mesmo por sair do mercado. Perde-se assim a rebeldia e contra-corrente que caracterizou a moda desde os anos 60 até finais do sec. XX.

Commes des Garçons

At present innovations relate more to the use of new technologies to create new fabrics and patterns rather than innovation in design. The few examples that exist as Rei Kambuko/Comme des Garçons or Gareth Pugh are only few courageous counter-flow. They are really great inspiration for the big Fashion Houses, and even they are who tell us what is the future.

Actualmente as inovações prendem-se mais com o uso das novas tecnologias para a criação de novos tecidos e padrões mais do que a inovação no design. Os poucos exemplos que existem como Rei Kawakubo ou Gareth Pugh não passam de escassos corajosos contra-corrente onde as grandes Casas de Moda se inspiram, sendo mesmo eles que nos indicam qual o caminho futuro.

Gareth Pugh

Far from 60's contesting, the Fashion World is now dominated by celebrities. The It-girls fill the covers of fashion magazines, give the face in the ad campaigns and sit in the front row of the main fashion shows. Anna Wintour was the visionary who in 2007 put on the cover of the September issue of Vogue (the largest and most important issue of the year) the it-girl Sienna Miller. In 2009, Wintour would make its September issue the first time with a black model.

Muito longe da contestação dos anos 60 e seguintes, o Fashion World está agora dominado pelas Celebridades. As It-girls enchem as capas das revistas de moda, dão a cara nos anúncios e sentam-se na fila da frente dos principais desfiles de moda. Anna Wintour foi a visionária que já em 2007 colocou na capa da edição de Setembro da Vogue ( a edição maior e mais importante do ano) a it-girl Sienna Miller. Em 2001, Wintour faria a sua edição de Setembro pela primeira vez com uma modelo negra.

Jada Pinkett Smith fotografada para a Vogue em 2001

Fashion is changing, fashion is fleeting, fashion is unattainable... when the trends hit the stores, they are already changing by the hard work in the Ateliers of the Maisons. But fashion is not limited to trends that are constantly being replaced from season to season. Fashion is much more than that. Fashion afflicts people, put them nervous because fashion is not personally or socially just and excludes those who do not belong to him by calling. Fashion and style belong to those who have it by birth, though the taste can be educated.

 A moda é mudança, a moda é fugaz, a moda é algo inatingivel, pois, quando as tendências chegam às lojas, já se trabalham com afinco outras novas tendências nos ateliers das Maisons. Mas a moda não se reduz às tendências que estão sempre a ser substituidas estação a estação. A moda é muito mais do que isso. A moda aflige as pessoas, poe-as nervosas porque a moda não é socialmente nem pessoalmente justa e exclui aqueles que não lhe pertencem por vocação. Moda e estilo pertencem aqueles que o têm e não se adquire, apesar do gosto poder ser educado.
 

'The Devil Wears Prada' - the Movie (2006)

 

The movie 'The devil wears Prada' seams to have inspired

Prada for their FW 2010/11 collection and this 'cerulean' sweater outfit (pics from http://www.intothefashion.com/ )

 
Fashion is passion, and belonging to a group of visionaries who invented the cobalt blue which will be tomorrow in the department stores for retail. And after tomorrow we all will wear cobalt blue shirts, even those who do not care nothing for fashion.
 
A moda é paixão e pertence aquele grupo restrito de visionários que inventa o preciso azul cobalto que amanhã estará nos grandes armazéns para revenda. E depois de amanhã todos nós usaremos camisolas com esse mesmo azul cobalto, mesmo aqueles que ñão se interessam absolutamente nada por moda.
 

Beautiful wool outfit by Carolyn Schnurer photographed by Frances McLaughlin (1949)

 

... That inspired Prada's collection Fall/Winter 2011 - There's nothing really new about Fashion NOW!?

 
 
Fashion is something we can not avoid even if we are against it all our lives. What can happen is that by being against the trends we will end up inventing our own tendencies and thus create a unique style which can then be copied by millions. There is nothing we can do about it! It's fashion!
 
A moda é algo que não podemos evitar mesmo quando somos contra ela toda a nossa vida. o que pode acontecer é que por sermos contra as tendências acabaremos por inventar as nossas próprias tendências e criamos assim um estilo próprio que depois poderá ser copiado por milhões de pessoas. Não há nada que possamos fazer!

JOSE ANTONIO by TENENTE - an exclusive Fashion Heroines

AMANHÃ, UM PEQUENO PASSO PARA A MODA PORTUGUESA, UM GRANDE PASSO PARA O FASHION HEROINES: ENTREVISTA AO NOSSO CRIADOR DE MODA JOSE ANTONIO TENENTE.

TOMORROW, ONE SMALL STEP FOR PORTUGUESE FASHION, ONE LARGE STEP FOR FASHION HEROINES: EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW TO THE PORTUGUESE FASHION DESIGNER JOSE ANTONIO TENENTE.

Fotografia de Ricardo Faria Paulino via JAT News

Enquanto aguardam pela entrevista podem visitar o blog do JAT aqui.

While waiting for the interview you can visit the blog of JAT HERE 

THE MOST USED ADJECTIVES AND EXPRESSIONS IN FASHION MAGAZINES AND BLOGS

Every month I read tons of magazines, every single day I visit dozens of blogues and sites, and I must say that mostly of them speak the same subjects and repeating the same things almost simultaneously, with some exceptions of course. I try to avoid the same posts and published similar photos of the others blogs but it's not an easy task to do because the sources are limited and information are global around the globe.

If I buy a magazine at the train station, when I will come to the next stop, less than an half hour later, I already red it. Sometimes I get the impression that the headtitles and the descriptions are always the same in all magazines and some blogs. There is a series of adjectives and expressions that are used over and over. The Miss at La Playa blog made a selection of words and expressions used by fashion magazines and blogs to exhaustion.

So I make you a suggestion and a challenge, if you are a journalist or a blogger try to talk about fashion and writte an article or post without use this words/expressions. The readers will thank you.

-L'enfant terrible

- Eco-chic

- Boho chic
- The next Kate Moss
- Vintage - The new black
- Très chic
- Cool
- Intelligent prices. Expensive prices are stupid or what?
- Country chic
- Vip
- Modern
- Avant-garde
- Retro
- Working girl
- Preppy
- Hit
- Must
- "In"
- Cool
- Très belle
- (...) & the city
- Safari
- It girl
- The new Audrey Hepburn
- Femme fatale
- Rockabilly
- Muse
- Licence to (...)
- Deluxe
- Flower party
- Zoom
- Sport chic
- Minimal
- Pin-up
- Made in (...)
- Techno fashion
- Fabulous at every age
- Perfect match
- Key pieces
- Confidential
- Face to face
- Basics
- Risky business
- Deluxe
- At work
- Eclectic
- Neutral
- Edgy
- Most wanted
- The show must go on
- Mix & Match
- The next Marilyn Monroe
- Work the (+ a trend)
- Material girl
- Power dressing
- Icon
- Fashion fix
- Underground
- Hotlist
- Insider
- Twist
- Extra
- Ageless beauty
- Curvy
- The next Brigitte Bardot
- Militar
- Influence
- Inspiration
- Jet set
- The (...) of the moment
- Pop
- Classics
- Uptown girl
- A star is born
- From Paris/Russia with love
- Smart shopping - Comeback 

I THINK WE NEED A REFRESH BUTTON IN THE FASHION PUBLICATIONS IN PAPER OR ONLINE... WHAT DO YOU THINK?

FIVE MINUTES FICTION: FASHION HEROINES - A shortstory by Luis Bento, Illustrated by Renato Abreu

Our friend and writer Luis Bento, author of the amazing blog bento-vai-pra-dentro agreed to the challenge of Fashion Heroines and created a shortstory for our "Five Minutes Fiction." As we found that the inspired text would be much more complete with an illustration, we challenge the illustrator Renato Abreu - author of the excellent site MAREAR  - who was inspired by Luis' shortstory, and also with his amazing talent, creating an original illustration to add to the story.


Now is the happy result of these exclusive collaborations (Bilingual) that Fashion Heroines is pleased to present. Get inspired!


Sometimes it slides, in a smooth performance, by the memory shredded in black and white from the chords of the national anthem to the end of the broadcast with a bang, up to the classroom where it still misspelled, stubbornly, Goa, Daman and Diu as overseas territories on the world map of scrolled ends, wanted to revoke the floor with a circumspect and pointless ribbons-cut in a picture with a President’s pose, full, medal and commendation in bold cynical sayings: EXCELLENCY THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC ADMIRAL AMÉRICO TOMÁS. It was the whiteness of the tortured robes by the lye and the bleach OMO detergent, whitest white there, that it was discerned a tiny and stocky little figure, in round capsule, of Dona Irmelinda who was born between the lines of the sixties, already breasted with a cardigan knitted by the middle shiny pearl button, which was sold in the haberdashery, in an innocence pinky boxes cantoned in the shelves, behind the curved side of Mr. Arnold, with glasses stuck on the tip of the nose, scrutinizing stirring until eternity, sewing thread by coats and clark cut by a shit ! Embarrassed when he stabbed on the number three needles, which were in a painfully mess.

Breathless by General Taborda street up, with a basket crammed with fish and greens coming from the market where it was cheaper and fresh, without residual gloss, pigment, hair spray or perfume which were long lost in the archaeological remains of the Neolithic dissected by experts. Only the red stroked flushed her face in the haste, which she stole time on the macadam to avoid the smell of late towards the tobacconist, where supreme vice of luxury for the poor, she bought the “Crónica Feminina”/ The Female Chronicle magazine, to indulge in the fantasy of the illustrated novelette or the comfort of the dresses advertisements, bags and winter jackets that she needed one, in an innocent and consented alienation which was interrupted only by the car payments, gradually presented by the collector, growling in the yellow teeth of tobacco, that her husband also went to pay.

If a star had fallen from heaven, in the runway, languid and sensual, rich of necklines and boldness, a free angel was walking, powerful and shiny where the devil could even wear Prada, Armani or stained skin with sin, but above all, life was dressed in warm textures and a mix of brightly colored, romantic and devoid of prejudice. It was there where she knew him. His middle span and clean-shaven face, treated with the blessing of Apollo on the day of shooting darts. She came to the conclusion, however, that Darwin only germinate and evolved in the female universe and had set to flee of the first warning sign of the male iberian hunting. Fool! He was a fool! With his idiot smiling of a cheap conqueror, who mistook Louboutin with lobotomy that the Doctor Egas Moniz’s assistant made to the brain, a delicate operation of his aunt Emily. Smoky, yeah, all naked, so sure of his clumsy virility, thinking that he had taken her body and not realizing, even, that she only lent it to him for he was lost in the prison of his thighs. She outlined a malicious and inside smile. He let out a Torquemada’s Queluz west confident puffs, looking askance, air of an ass inquisitor. And she came back, surreptitiously, to D. Irmelinda and her earrings, lipsticks, face powder and other sparkling accessories that only a miracle or distraction of the Lord, let the pages of paper.

She would like to be fashionable, but only her sister-in-law, who was an unbridled who circumvent the misfortunes of life, and brought her a set of lipsticks from South Africa where women wore miniskirts, and they drank like men and smoked and everything, gave her a letter of manumission, though briefly, to the land of dreams. It was one of those days where, for distraction, she dared to try the sister-in-law’s gift, in front of the mirror, old and gnawed by the rust; she did not by the arrival of her husband. Upset because there was no lunch on the table and stunned by the colors of the rags, he was furious when he saw the phallic image of the lipstick torn threads between the fingers, ready to storm their parched lips. Raised his right arm he gave her a hard slap, the lipstick shattering into pieces on the bathroom floor. And then without thinking, she decided it was time to break the fear that shackled her in a narrowness and subservience outdated. Although he was preparing to raise the arm again when he was taken violently by a ceramic vase of Sacavem which cost a good five pounds of coins, in the head...

She bent down to pick up a stub of lipstick and, without repressing a smile, she inflated her chest with air, leaned over the mirror and began, calmly, to paint the lips, realizing then that the difference between subservience and emancipation was distant from only twelve points well done on her husband forehead by the dexterity and skills of the nursing service of an hospital, and being in the fashion tone was daring to live in a conceptual and aesthetic freedom in which life ... was the tone...

Text: Luis Bento
(Lost in) Translation: Paula Lamares
Illustrations: Renato Abreu

VERSÃO EM PORTUGUÊS/ PORTUGUESE VERSION

Às vezes escorregava em ,prestações suaves, pela memória desfiada a preto e branco desde os acordes do hino nacional a encerrar a emissão televisiva com estrondo, até aos bancos da escola onde se grafava ainda, teimosamente, Goa, Damão e Diu como territórios ultramarinos, no mapa-mundi de pontas enroladas a querer baldar-se para o chão junto de um circunspecto e inútil corta-fitas num retrato com pose de presidente, faixa, medalha e comenda com os dizeres em bold cínico: SUA EXCELÊNCIA O PRESIDENTE DA REPÚBLICA ALMIRANTE AMÉRICO TOMÁS. Era da alvura das batas torturadas pela lexívia e pelo OMO branco mais branco não há, que divisava a figurinha minúscula e atarracada, em redondo carica, da Dona Irmelinda nascida nas entrelinhas dos sessenta, já de casaquinho de malha assertoado pelo botão do meio de madrepérola reluzente que se vendia na retrosaria, em caixas de inocência rosácea, acantonadas nas prateleiras por trás do costado curvo do senhor Arnaldo, de óculos presos na ponta do nariz esmiuçando e remexendo até à eternidade , carrinhos de linha da coats and clark entrecortados por um chiça! envergonhado quando se espetava nas agulhas número três dolorosamente desarrumadas.

Esbaforida, pela rua General Taborda acima com a alcofa atafulhada de peixe, grelos e nabiças vinda da praça onde era mais barato e fresquinho, sem réstea de brilho, pigmento, laca ou perfume há muito perdidos nos vestígios arqueológicos dissecados por peritos do Neolítico. Apenas o vermelho afogueado lhe acariciava a face na pressa com que roubava tempo ao macadame para evitar o fedor a atraso em direcção à tabacaria onde, vício supremo do luxo de pobre, comprava a Crónica Feminina e se deixava levar pela fantasia da fotonovela ou pelo conforto dos anúncios dos vestidos, das malas e casacos de inverno que ela bem precisava de um, numa alienação inocente e consentida apenas interrompida pelas letras do carro que, paulatinamente apresentadas pelo cobrador, grunhiam nos dentes amarelos do tabaco que o marido ainda andava a pagar.

Se do céu caíra uma estrela, na passserele, lânguida e sensual, rica de decotes e ousadias, passeava-se um anjo livre, poderoso e reluzente onde o diabo até podia vestir Prada, Armani ou pele corada em pecado, mas acima de tudo, a vida se trajava de texturas quentes e garridas numa miscelânea de cor, romântica e despojada de preconceitos. Fora aí que o conhecera. Meio palmo de cara bem tratada e escanhoada com o beneplácito de Apolo em dia de tiro aos dardos. Chegara à conclusão, contudo, que Darwin só germinara e evoluíra no universo feminino e se pusera a fancos ao primeiro sinal de alerta da coutada do macho ibérico. Tolo! Era um tonto! De sorriso idiota de conquistador em saldos confundindo Louboutin com a lobotomia que o assistente do doutor Egas Moniz fizera à cabeça, numa operação delicada, da sua tia Emília.

Esfumaçava, perdidamente, todo nu seguro da sua viriidade canhestra pensando que lhe tomara o corpo e não se dando conta, sequer, que ela apenas lho emprestara para que ele se perdesse no cárcere das suas coxas. Ela esboçava um sorriso malicioso e interior. Ele soltava baforadas confiantes de Torquemada de queluz ocidental, olhando, de soslaio, ar de asno inquisidor. E ela voltava, sorrateiramente, à D. Irmelinda e aos seus brincos , batons, pó de arroz e outros acessórios reluzentes que, só por milagre ou distracção do Senhor, deixariam as páginas de papel.

Ela bem gostaria de andar na moda, mas só a cunhada, que era uma desbragada que fintara as desgaças da vida e lhe trouxera um conjunto de batons da África do Sul onde elas andavam de mini saia, bebiam como os homens e até já fumavam e tudo, lhe concedia carta de alforria , ainda que por breves instantes, para a terra do sonho. E foi num desses dias em que, por distracção , se atrevera a experimentar a prenda da cunhada diante do espelho gasto e roído de ferrugem, que não dera pela chegada do marido. Contrariado por não haver almoço na mesa e estarrecido pelas cores dos trapos, ficou furibundo quando vislumbrou a imagem fálica do batom esgaçando por entre os dedos, pronto a tomar de assalto os seus lábios ressequidos. Alçou o braço direito e deu-lhe uma palmada com força estilhaçando o batom em pedaços no chão da casa de banho. E então sem pensar, decidira que era altura de romper com o medo que a agrilhoava numa tacanhez e subserviência fora de moda. Ainda ele se preparava para alçar o braço de novo quando levou, violentamente, com um jarrão de loiça de sacavém que custara uns bons cinco kilos de escudos, na cabeça…

Baixou-se para apanhar um coto de batom e , não reprimindo um sorriso, inflou o peito de ar , inclinou-se sobre o espelho e começou, calmamente, a pintar os lábios, percebendo, então, que a diferença entre subserviência e emancipação distava apenas doze pontos bem cosidos na testa do marido pela destreza e perícia do enfermeiro de serviço no posto clínico e que, estar no tom da moda era ousar viver numa liberdade conceptual e estética em que a vida… era o tom…

Texto: Luis Bento

Ilustração: Renato Abreu

FIVE MINUTES FICTION: ... OR IS THIS DEPRESSING?

Maybe I’m an old man, not so old, I mean, a middle age man… looking for some fun in the hostile planet of the Oldness.

I have two children; they are both in the end of the teenager period… or maybe not, they are teenagers that grew poorly. Really nobody likes to be sixteen or seventeen, only who are thirty years old wants to be teenager forever.


My wife refuses to get old; so she is obsessed to look like younger but this is an unfair fight because how much she would like to be young, older she looks like. It’s a contradiction that became a source of sorrow and that makes her bitter and ... even older, if it’s possible.

I’m a mixture of gravity, nostalgia and silliness, an unsophisticated person; So simple like that: I’m in peace with my newspaper and my pipe and every morning I look at the mirror and I like me, just like that… or maybe not… unsophisticated man, ground-to-earth enough to have no troubles with the middle age and the loss of virility… or maybe not… and I got used to hide the anguish of my situation.

I’m not a person to love at first sight. My children love me only because I’m their father and they haven’t another to replace me. To be a father is a situation for life, I think… or maybe not, because there is some who gave up being fathers, or maybe not… they are required to. It’s sad… or maybe not… everyone wants to be a father, who doesn’t? Not everyone, they are not bad persons after all, only the role doesn’t fit them. They can’t feature a beloved father because they don’t know anything about what a father must be or not be. But I’m not like that. I love my children as I love my wife; despite we never talked about love or anything suchlike feelings.

I'm actually a very reserved man; I think I have always been so. Educational issues, I think! All my life was about my duties… first my duties to my wife, to my children, then to my boss, to my neighbors… and so on. I am a duty man, I always was... or maybe not.

I never could imagine that something like that could happen to me. Really I don’t think these events could happen to a very simple man like I am. I don’t believe so… but they did. What can I do?

 

I lived all my life in that dirty and grey small town dominated by the seaport, with nothing really interesting …

On Saturday's night the young men went to the bowling and the young couples went to a pub to drink beer, shots and maybe dancing later in a local Disco. I never went to a place like that and I don’t like dance at all, I never dance… music to me was always a sort of distraction that I couldn't afford because I got married at twenty years old and I got the first son five months after the marriage. So I felt oldness since the thirties or less.

 

When I first met her it was about thirty years ago. She was twenty nine years old and she was everything I dislike in a woman. She smokes a lot, she drinks beer and Scott like men did. She worked in a local newspaper making photography and she wrote for a fashion magazine in New York too. She was what we call now an emancipated woman and men were afraid of her but in secret all called her a hooker.

At this time she had no boyfriend and some people said that she left her husband in London and fled to the United States to become a journalist and a photographer. I think she was good in both jobs and after a while she worked in a famous fashion magazine in the Apple big city. I didn’t know why she came to live in our ugly town… I never did.

At the time all women wanted to look like her, Sarah, it was her name. She always weared fashionable dresses and hats which fabrics she ordered from Paris and she made herself as the models only seen in actresses and artists from Hollywood. She hadn’t the perfect beauty of a doll but she was a glorious female beauty, so stylish and charming, what we men called a Vamp.
 
She made scandalous photos of completely naked men and women, so naked as they were born. Her home was always full of very weird and vicious people, artists as they called themselves. That place, her studio, a third floor in a bulding near the boat's berth, it was the hell and the purgatory at the same time. One they I was invited to have dinner with my boss' family, in some kind of party he made to celebrate the come back of his oldest son that went to war in Europe. She was there and when I saw Sarah I couldn't look her directly nor speak to her. I really never had seen a woman like her, only in movies, perhaps. Five months later I got married. And I never saw her again. Until now…
 

Thirty years later I met Sarah again in an exhibition at MoMa. I rarely leave home now since I decided to retire myself, but my daughter Marianne asked me so much to go to NY with her to see an exhibition of one of the most influents photographers ever: Irving Penn, who just died in last October. Marianne loves everything we can call it art and she used to be a photographer’s assistant during college. She never looked like her father, she always was so different from me and from her mother too, I think… maybe not… may be her mother was required by me what she never was. I realize now that my wife is a stranger to me, I don’t really know what she likes, if she likes music or what color is her favorite. We are married so long and we never talked anything but money and children. A husband must know what is his wife's favorite flower, but I don't.  

So I went to NY with Marianne… and at the gallery I saw Sarah. She looks the same but a bit older. Stylish and vamp as always. She looked beautiful and weird as I can remember. She looked at me and I think she know me. Her eyes got a bright light of recognition. Sarah became a very famous photographer and she was now a fashion editor in chief of an influent magazine, Marianne told me. Marianne asked me if I know Sarah and I said no, of course not. She told me that she lived in the same town as we did when she was young, at the beginning of her career. Maybe I had know her, I said. May be not… and I said nothing. My daughter said me that she would like to know Sarah and that she admire very much her work. She was a pioneer in female photography and nudity, Marianne said. I said nothing.

Now, in front of the infinite ocean, having the clouds to my witnesses and the sun as my god, I must confess something: I loved Sarah… I loved everything she was and whom she represented: Freedom and Beauty. Everything my life never was neither I never had. Freedom and Beauty, the lightness of beauty, the full colors against the grey tones, the courage and the daring to be weird in a time in which to be free was a sin.

Today, I must confess that I am not an old man in front of the sea. I am a stupid old man, maybe a fool middle age man, unsophisticated man... attached to the prohibition to speak to Sarah. I never could talked with her; I never dared to told her something very stupid. All my life is arrested by the simple fact that I never spoke to Sarah. Or maybe not… How depressing is that?

Text: Paula Lamares

Illustrations: William Kentridge 

PHOTO OF THE DAY/ The Good Natured

via Dazed Digital 

The Anatomy of Cool

CAN YOU DEFINE COOL?
Everybody wants to be cool. Brands all  want to sell the idea of "cool"... and the exclusivity of being cool. But who can define cool? Is it cool a nonsense, a no concept? That being cool really exist?

The headline implies that there is a “body” whose anatomy you can analyze. The whole point of cool is that it does not have a body available for analysis. It’s like a ghost instead of a corpse. That’s why it is cool.

 
What cool is completely individual and ever-changing. Cool is whatever you like and want. Cool is subjective. It is an opinion. But that does not mean that we — as individuals, brands, media — are not interested in or influenced by others’ views of what cool is. Skip the idea of what's cool and what's not cool is chased by everyone from individuals to brands and media. Since TV announcers, magazines' editor-in-chief, journalists, pivot newscasts, TVentertainers, commentators and politicians all want to convey the idea of cool.
 
Today are we all chasing a vague and abstract idea, a ghost? Are we obsessed with something that truly does not exist? A cool thing...
 
 

Is it cool a bit like fashion? You decide and choose for yourself what you feel is fashionable within your peer group, your culture, your age group, at your financial level. But someone somewhere has given you the initial clue. Marketers and media have brought out the type of sneaker, the kind of jeans, the brand of handbag that you now like and want. In addition, someone you admire is most likely also wearing it. You follow fashion.

But no, no, no... cool is also definitely NOT like fashion. Cool is more about what the norm is NOT. Cool is elusive, indefinable, covetable. It is original, desirable, and not accessible to everybody. If everyone has it, if the brand becomes saturated, it stops being cool.

Occasionally, a brand manages to remain cool and covetable, and becomes a classic. Of the world-wide brands, examples of this include Apple, Absolut and Mini. Many niche brands have also achieved classic status in their relatively small circle. The defining characteristic of these cool classics is that they keep innovating constantly.

 
Cool could be a fashionable thing or a non-fashionable thing, a demodè thing, a classic... a classic that becomes new year after year like rayban sunglass models. For me some models of cars are cool as old and are no longer cool when retrieved years later and modernized. A classic Mini is cool, a modern model of Mini is not cool because everybody can buy one, is too much popular and acessible, a new model have neither character has a story like the old mini has. So it's not cool.

Magazines, TV or advertisers could no longer control what cool looked like. Marketers who were used to being the ones who decided what the next trend or the next fashion was going to be, suddenly had to face this uncontrollable deluge of messages, opinions and information that consumers were passing on to each other.

Today’s consumers are sick of mass marketing and the sameness of brands. They want to be delighted, surprised and wowed by something that is authentic, different and off the mainstream.

If luxury brands all want to sell the idea of exclusivity and being special and COOL, then why are their identities so similar? Luxury brands would have the vocation to be unique and exclusive but year after year what can we see? they can't created a true cool product, idea, cause, concept... only cool promotion with fantastic ad campaigns with the most cool protographers, stylist and models... and you can sell the same old products, ideas, causes or concepts by the sheer brilliance of a cool publicity but you can't become these products cool, that does not make the brand cool... only the ads are cool.

Cool is the perfect example of the fact that NOBODY can define it and EVERYBODY can.
Are we all chasing a sterile mirage in this desert of new ideas and concepts? Is it the cool factor in the past? Or in the future?


Source: All pics and some inspiration from The Cool Hunter  

JEANLOUP SIEFF'S WIFE INTERVIEW BY PARIS MATCH

Fashion Heroines remembered photographer Jeanloup Sieff twice here and here. But now we must return to the French master on the subject of an interview that his wife Barbara Rix-Sieff gave to Paris Match in the role of co-editor of the fabulous book Les indiscrètes with unpublished photographs by French photographer.

“There are no reasons for my photographs, nor any rules…” Such statements were typical of photographer Jeanloup Sieff, a regular contributor to Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar in the ’70s. Renowned for his personal charm and great humility—he never deigned to discuss the artistic merits of his work—Sieff’s powerful black-and-white images fall aesthetically somewhere between Irving Penn’s classic glamour pics and the ironic street shots of William Klein.

Many of his works for both editorial and advertising campaigns have become classics of the 20th century, perhaps the best example being the series he shot in 1972 of a stick-thin Yves Saint Laurent to promote the designer’s new men’s fragrance.

But Sieff worked at such an astonishing rate that an equally large number of photographs have been quickly passed over, remaining unpublished even after his death in 2000.

New from Steidl, Les indiscrètes collects previously unavailable images from the photographer’s back catalogue, including his early reportage for ELLE, work with Magnum Photos, and fashion spreads for Look, Glamour, Esquire and Nova.

The images have been carefully selected by a team of editors, including the photographer’s wife, Barbara Rix-Sieff. “Once I’d chosen, I thought, That’s it,” she says. “But then I found so many nice prints, we had to start over again.”

All images from the Sieff's latest book "Les Indiscrètes".
 
THE INTERVIEW WITH BARBARA RIX-SIEFF (Paris Match magazine):
 
 
The late photographic legend Jeanloup Sieff’s and his wife Barbara Rix-Sieff were based in Paris from 1970 until September, 2000, when he passed away. A former-model, she is now a photographer herself, and is the co-editor of Les indiscrètes, a new book of previously unpublished works by her husband, available from Steidl. Their life was glamorous to be sure, but also a barrel of laughs, she says.
 

 

Barbara Rix-Sieff by Jeanloup Sieff 

 
 
How did you meet Jeanloup?

We worked together: model and photographer. It was for Vogue, with Yves Saint Laurent clothes.

When was this?
In 1969, of course. I had seen his photos before, but I had only just started to work, so I was not into fashion at all. It was one of my early jobs. I worked a lot after, less with him. It was different with him.

What was your first impression of him?
I was over the moon. He was very good-looking. I was more impressed with the man than his work at the beginning. I was very different then. I was very… flower power. I had lived in Germany, I didn’t go to exhibitions. I wanted to become a doctor when I was young.

But this all changed when you were a teenager?
Don’t speak about age! I was quite young. I came to Paris, I started to live here. I thought, 'I will learn French.' At that time, before studying, people traveled a lot, so I went to Paris and Rome, just to see what happens.

And then how did you get into modeling, were you spotted?
I was spotted every day. It’s true! I couldn’t believe it. I had never thought about being a model.

When did you marry Jeanloup?
Oh, years after we met. We stopped working with each other, because it’s different when you live together and work together. It can be heavy. It depends how you feel about it.


What was it like living with him?
He was very busy, but he had a very good [sense of] humor. He laughed a lot, which is important when you live with somebody. He was fascinating: he wrote very well, and when he spoke, he didn’t speak in slang like me—he spoke very well and was funny.

His humor comes across in the work.
Looking at his books, a lot of people see the images and they don’t read. He said there was often a little joke in the captions. The photos can look dramatic and he was not dramatic at all. He was very traditional, very open and impressed by people.


Do you have a favorite photograph he took of you?
Well, nothing from the first shoot when we met nor any of our fashion pictures. It would be a normal picture, a picture of life. It’s strange to be a model, because you become somebody else in a way… not you. I am not a model who puts her own pictures on the wall. I just thought of modeling as a very easygoing thing, with lots of travel. After we were together, we didn’t work so much because it was a normal relationship. I would come home from shooting, in full makeup, big eyes, and he would say, 'Oh, take that shit off!' We had a lot of fun together. Maybe everyone says this about their husband, but he was exceptional.


The book "Les Indiscrètes" was available from Steidl  

FIVE MINUTES FICTION: It’s The Way you Died That Keeps me Awake at Night

It’s the way you died that keeps me awake at night. During the day at the Office I was so boring that I can’t even think about philosophical aspects like death or the meaning of life… I can’t think at all. I have to do the reports that it is an absolute waste of time because nobody reads them under any circumstances. And then someone do other short reports about my reports which nobody knows that they exist, and this thing is a full time job, can you believe that? When I come back home while I see the frozen pizza to rotate and spin in the microwave is when I start to think about it… about you and your weird death. At night my mind can’t process this fact of your absurd death. It does not help that the pizza was an inedible piece of fake pizza. The tiny room is so quiet that I can hear my inner voice; it’s when I begin to think behind my simple life.

First I turn on the TV as a company to avoid the awful silence of the bourgeoisified suburbs. Then I drop the dish with leftover pizza; At this point I’m starting to understand things during the day seem absurd, except your death. Your death is so full of unjustified argues that I can´t understand nothing at all months after you pass the way. I think I started getting into madness because I can’t sleep at night and I cannot stay awake during the day. At the office everything seems to me as a bad dream and I’m always waiting to wake up of the reports’ nightmare. My boss has a superb plan in what is concern the employees: Keep them busy no matter what. I have the perk plan to kill him with the folder reports. But nothing of this justified your unusual death.

I think wherever you are now, you are still gloating over your victory, because it seems to me you always loved absurd and surrealism in life. It seems to me that you always liked to make fun with the most stupid and simple. I can remember when you loved to hide of me for days and days in your private world of stones and pebbles. Never have you minded leaving me alone with the soliloquy of my diary reports and solitude of my endless nights. Your ingratitude always was so huge but I always forgive you when you returned so quiet and peaceful to my tiny, tiny room.

Oh! I can imagine you will come back on my way home little Frank Jr., and I could see you again with your gorgeous golden suit to kiss my tiny fingers against the glass if I would be a great musician strumming an enormous glass piano just for you.

It’s the way you died that keeps me awake at night. I gave you the better feed I can find in the market (I really don’t care it costs more than my pizza), I really followed carefully the instructions that came in the box. I moved up your water to a fresh one the day before, and you did not even complained when I poured the vitamins that turn up the water in a weird purple and grim up it. But in the morning, Frank Jr., you came floating on the purple water full of good vitamins. I can´t ever understand why a happy golden fish can simply die like that! First I thought that you were joking of me as usual. but at night when I came back home I came to the conclusion that you really were dead. It’s the way you died that keeps me awake at night: Floating on top of expensive vitamins.

 
Paula Lamares
Abril/2010

FIVE MINUTES FICTION: TO BE OR NOT TO BE... LATE.

Her: Hello, Hi! Come in…

Him: Hi, are you ready?

Her: We are not late!

Him: Not yet. My shoes are new.

Her: Oh! Great.

Him: You know I hate to be late.

Her: Of course dear, but we aren’t late at all.

Him: I’m waiting.

Her: Of course, dear. So your shoes are new!

Him: you know I always feel weird when I’m wearing something new.

Her: I’m just the opposite, dear.

Him: Are you ready to go?

Her: We are not late.

Him: Yet. We will be if you don’t get a move on. It’s not cool to be late for appointments.

Her: Dinner with Marc and Helena is not really an appointment, dear.

Him: No matter. I would not like being late. Get ready please.

Her: We are not late. It’s too soon to be late.

Him: My shoes are killing me. Oh! They are “Dolce” you know.

Her: Very elegant.

Him: I’m feeling so freak!

Her: You are not. You are very handsome.

Him: Always being late. Always. And how thankful I am that you’re not late.

Her: I’m not late, dear. We are not late.

Him: yes. We are… in a minute we are already late.

Her: How are your feet?

Him: I like the shoes but they are killing me.

Her: And the shirt is it new too?

Him: No. not the shirt. Are you ready to go?

Her: Do you like Helena?

Him? Yes. She is very nice.

Her: and very beautiful…too.

Him: Nice.

Her: Nice legs and beautiful skin.

Him: Perhaps. Can we go now?

Her: Perhaps? Are you blind? Why did you buy new staff? You don’t like wear new clothes… and shoes!

Him: Oh! We are so late!

Her: You are not late. Don’t be so false.

Him: I’m not false, and these shoes are not fake at all. They cost me a fortune.

Her: You bought new shoes ‘cause Helena. Don’t lie to me.

Him: I’m not lying. I hate lateness. Are you ready?

Her: We are not late yet. And what else about Helena?

Him: Helena is too much “Lolita”. I’m not into Lolita’s style, you know.

Her: So I’m too old… it’s that!

Him: Darling, you have the perfect age and the perfect look. Can we go now?

Her: Yes. Really?

Him: Of course darling. I love you as the way you are. . Are we ready? Are you ready?

Her: We are not late, calm down!

Him: I like to look great for you not for somebody else. And you accuse me of only having demode clothes. So I bought new staff … whatever they are killing me… I can handle with that. But I can´t stand to be late again. Can we go?

Her: You are not late.

Him: Not yet. Are we ready?

Her: Are you nuts? I’m not. No. I’m not.

Him: What?

Her: I haven’t a thing to wear.


Paula Lamares

FOCUS ON: FASHION AND ARCHITECTURE

There is one book Alexander McQueen would certainly have liked: it is Heavenly Vault: From Romanesque to Gothic in European Architecture by photographer David Stephenson (released by Princeton Architectural Press). This book is a vertiginous display of sublime cathedral vaults; of choirs, crossings and naves. The mystique of architecture shines from striking gothic sobriety to norman follies. McQueen’s latest effort also evoke this calm magnificence of architectural motives and the pathos of Middle-Age beliefs. We think there could be no better décors for these heavenly creatures than these architectural masterpieces.

Romanesque Architecture 1000 - 1140 - St. Etienne Basilica, France.

Alexander McQueen Fall 2010

Laon, in northern France city, was one of the first cathedrals built in the new Gothic style, with pointed arches showing you the way up to Heaven.

Alexander McQueen Fall 2010

Stargard Choir - Gothic architecture

Alexander McQueen Fall 2010

Batalha, Portugal

Alexander McQueen Fall 2010

Batalha, Portugal

Alexander McQueen Fall 2010

More about the book:
Internationally renowned photographer David Stephenson has dedicated his practice to capturing the sublime in nature and architecture. Stephenson began to photograph Gothic vaults in Spain and Portugal in 2003, while completing the work for his Domes project, and his first monograph Visions of Heaven: the Dome in European Architecture. He began to focus on the Vaults project in 2006, photographing Gothic churches and cathedrals in England, Belgium and France. With the assistance of an Australia Council Artist Fellowship in 2008-09, Stephenson completed extensive fieldwork for the Vaults project, intensively photographing Romanesque and Gothic architecture in Italy, France, Spain, Portugal, Austria, the Czech Republic, Poland, and Germany. David Stephenson's new book of photography is a love letter to the intricate, seemingly sui generis vaults of Europe's Romanesque and Gothic cathedrals and churches.
Source: Images ©: David Stephenson through John Buckley gallery and http://www.160grams.com/

LISBON FASHION WEEK'S CONTENT - This Way For MODALISBOA

Terreiro do Paço - Main entrance to Lisbon Fashion Week stage 1

Lisbon Fashion Week is over! While Lisbon fashionists flock to the North attending Oporto PORTUGAL FASHION shows,  we’ll be here collecting all our reviews, news, gossip, parties, and anything else we posted about these fantastic four days that remained in every fashion heroines/heroes soul.

Pateo da Galé - Main entrance

Bookmark it s’il vous plaît to have immediate access to LFW

xo.  Fashion Heroines

REVIEWS

DAY 1

Alexandra Moura

Ricardo Preto

Alves/Gonçalves

DAY 2

Luís Buchinho

Katty Xiomara

Ana Salazar

DAY 3

Aleksandar Protic

Miguel Vieira

Pedro Pedro

Salsa

Nuno Baltazar

DAY 4

White Tent - MUDE

Filipe Faísca

Nuno Gama

T.M. Collection

T.M. Collection II (Details)

Ricardo Dourado

Dino Alves

Mental by Shunnoz & Tekala

ENTREVISTA A ALEXANDRA MOURA

PHOTOS
THAT'S THE DAY
DAY ONE ( SHOWS DETAILS)

DAY TWO (SHOWS DETAILS
DAY TWO (KATTY XIOMARA DETAILS)
DAY FOUR - MUDE

captiON this/gOssips
Gossips and Pretty Faces - Check In - Day One

Pretty Faces - Day 2

Cocktail Party TMN SONY ERICSSON W 205 Betty Boop
Pretty Faces - Day 3
Gossips and Fashionists - Day 3

DESIGNER'S PROFILE:
Alexandra Moura
Ana Salazar
Ricardo Preto

See also the Portuguese Version in our web page of UNITED PHOTO PRESS

" BODY... AND SOUL" - Alexandra Moura Interview by Fashion Heroines

Alexandra Moura opened this year the ModaLisboa catwalk with "... Body and Soul" as it is called the new collection for Autumn / Winter 2010-11. The symbiosis between our body, our soul, body and soul of the garment. Together they communicate something. Here's the story behind the collection...

Alexandra Moura may not be the most mediatic designer of Fashion Week, but it is certainly the most friendly and one of the most poetic. And she transmitted her poetic soul into her work. But despite the poetry inherent in her, does not mean that her collection is not practical and very wearable, on the contrary, Alexandra conceives the difficult task of creating pieces at once elegant, comfortable and with a unique urban sophistication. And that's what we all want poor girls, something we can wear at work and after, and that makes us feel stylish while maintaining our well-being.


Alexandra Moura agreed to talk to Fashion Heroines about her inspirations, dreams and life. Here is an interview with a portuguese designer who will get the apparent contradictions of life as inspiration to design the soul of her pieces.

FashionHeroines: Your work is very creative and conceptual. Where do you take inspiration and trends?


AlexandraMoura : My work is not developed from trends, but from concepts. My inspiration comes from a variety of situations or moments. It might be a feeling, an image, or a certain state of mind.

FH: What are your visual references?

AM: All that surrounds me. The World.

FH: Where do you take the news?

AM: On the street, in people, the web, in film, music.

FH: Name 3 fashion designers you like or who influenced your work.

AM: I will not name one or two because although my favorites, there are great designers who can fascinate me in different seasons, at different moments and in different ways.

FH: About your new collection Fall / Winter 2010-2011 which is the story behind it? What were your sources of inspiration?

AM: The concept behind this collection has to do with the mood  at the present moment. My need to communicate something different. This collection has the theme "... body and soul ..." and left the symbiosis between our body, our soul, body and soul of the garment. Together they communicate something.

FH: What defines Alexandra Moura now?

AM: Evolution.


FH: You designed the costumes for the Portuguese Contemporary Dance Company, and you also created the wardrobe for  artists like Sonia Tavares and Teresa Salgueiro. What do you prefer design for artists or for woman on the street?

AM: Most of all  I loved  created images which I identify myself and the client also.

FH: Who would you like to wear?

AM: Several people, depend on the moment / occasion.

FH: What makes you laugh?

AM:  Life.


FH: What is your proudest achievement in life?

AM: Being Mom! Allied to my professional side.


FH: What do you most dislike about contemporary culture? And in the fashion world?

AM: The lobbies.


FH: If you could wish for one change in the world what would it be?

AM: The way people look at the world.


FH: What are your plans for the future? What are your dreams?

AM: Speaking at the moment, my great desire is to solidify the brand and its internationalization.


FH: If you could add one question to this project questionnaire what would it be

AM: I don't because it is already an exhausting questionnaire (Laughs).



Photo by Joao Lamares for Fashion Heroines