Posts Tagged ‘fashion’

Karl Lagerfeld: the definition of ego

We on the IWDTFM team are often asked, “Why don’t you all become models?”. It’s a valid question, given how good looking we all are. But I have a secret: I don’t understand the fashion industry. What it is, what it does, and why the hell anyone would want to be a part of it.

I’m writing this because I read Kate’s article about the New Zealand fashion week, and – like Kate – I was impressed that a country that has yet to pave its streets even has a fashion week. Wales doesn’t, although this could be due to the fact that large numbers of the Welsh population have yet to be introduced to clothes.

Not that the fashion industry is particularly concerned with clothes. They don’t produce things that you can wear. They produce monstrosities of design, much like a five-year-old with access to a large supply of Play-Doh might.

What really confuses me about the fashion industry is that so many people seem to want to break into it. Models, fashion designers, stylists, hairdressers… never mind that the industry seems to be a mix of sweat shops and the Third Reich, it’s honestly an industry that people marry footballers to get into. On your average thirteen-year-old girl’s list of “Things I Want To Be When I Grow Up”, the desirability of jobs in the fashion industry is probably only second to whatever the hell it is Tara Parker-Tomkinson did to get famous.

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Pamela tries her best to make butt crack fashionable. Fail.

It was New Zealand Fashion Week last week. Wait, I hear you ask. NZ has a fashion week? We sure do. And it’s not all gumboots, swandris and black singlets. There’s like, actual non-farmery type gear on display.

But you’re right in thinking that the event is not a big deal. The fact it was scheduled for the same time as London Fashion Week proves that NZ Fashion Week isn’t even a blip on the global sartorial radar — there were no journalists, socialites, or buyers out there going, ohmygosh what am I to do? over the scheduling conflict in their calendars.

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Get your Guevara novelty licence from the King of Swords amd pretend you're a tyrannical despot! HAHA! Cool! Do these kids think he's some kind of classic old cartoon character worthy of praise? Christ.

The image of massive fascist Ernesto Ché Guevara is absolutely fucking everywhere. A million t-shirts depicting him are sold in Camden every second, typically to the kind of grungy kid who stands around smoking and looking moody. I posit that they know little to nothing of this man’s life and works. These kids are probably alienated by their peers for being honest, tolerant and non-judgmental.

Now it’s 2009, and his visage is a global insignia, representing counter-culture and rebellion and is reproduced in many, if not all media.

But what about all the other shit he got up to, like stringing up gays?

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Only a truly self-righteous prick would want everything they own to be red.

Bono is widely accredited with being smug, arrogant and self-righteous. Not content with this public stance he continually goes on to prove everyone right by using the plight of the third world as a marketing outlet.

Project Red customises popular wares with a unique red fascia. Phones, iPods, t-shirts and what have you all come in red so that people just as bare-faced can simultaneously accessorise and brag about their tireless charitable efforts.

Purchasing the Motorola Red phone sends £10 straight to the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, and £130 to Motorola. I daren’t suggest what proportion of this went to the Global Fund to Kit Bono out with a Limitless Collection of Ostentatious Commodities (GFKBLCOC).

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Gimp couture

We have been discussing the subject of wearing masks lately at the Iwilldothatformoney office. It’s amazing really… People use a variety of methods – make up, plastic surgery, masks to either hide themselves or emerge from the crowd of us ordinary folk. I’m sure psychologists have done plenty of writing in these areas, but it still surprises me how some celebrities go beyond all conceivable notion to either conceal their insecurity or try to make up for lack of talent…

And there’s so many of them… Take for instance the band ‘Kiss’. Yes, the same ones who made ‘I was made for loving you’ and ‘Crazy Nights’, and ‘Forever’… Well, it seems nothing lasts forever with these guys… Did you go to Download festival 2008? Have you listened to them live? Oh no! Complete vocal and instrumental disaster. As most of you know Americans are quite good with make up and technology, so all fans were treated with nothing but appearances and firing guitars! Yes, firing guitars. You know, boom, boom and then lights coming out… Breathtaking experience! Honestly!

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More relevant and relatable than you: Banff National Park squirrel shot to fame accidentally - his upcoming album is now tipped to be Christmas #1

Imagine Iran launched a nuke right in the middle of the Baftas, or Grammys, and it was aimed at the hypothetical venue in question, killing everyone important in the world (everything crossed! – alas, I jest.)

Our tabloids would be devoid of content after a week.

They have Sunday supplements and obits prepared eons ago, waiting to be sent to press at the touch of a button. But what then? There will probably be attempts to make icons out of grieving relatives, but I have little enough faith in humanity to expect this to be met with widespread derision and the eventual collapse of the gossip tabloid market. Yay! Here’s hoping!

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Presumably I would look like this if I got dressed after having a bucket of Pimm's for breakfast

The roof couldn't close quick enough to save from ruining this bloke's life entirely.

Every year in the middle of June, Merton College offers a one week crash course in the vagaries of tennis. The lessons comprise learning by rote key phrases of benign claptrap to regurgitate to anyone, whether they care or not, during the insufferable two weeks that is the British tennis season.

The courses are extremely popular, attracting pasty inbreds from all corners of the country. Armchair sportspersons prepare in earnest to provide us all with the discourse which serves as background noise everywhere you go for half a month.

The big talking point this year is the retractable roof, a concertina of steel and plastic that takes thirty minutes to shut. Born out of necessity, given the typical climate in London during the tournament, officials must use their extra senses or mutant powers to exactly match the complete shutting of the roof to just before the heavens open.

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Inspired by Daniel’s post on Lady GaGa, I thought I’d write a post on celeb loathing myself. This is a scathing blog. That means we get to write the occasional diatribe about celebrities. Especially celebrities who have too much money, or ones who do really stupid shit for money, or ones who sue for lots of money when everybody knows they had plastic surgery anyway.

Yes, I’m talking about Sharon Stone.

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Clearly she is not as original as she makes out - the Yeti is minutes ahead of her

I am still surprised and throw up in my mouth a little bit every time I think of Lady GaGa, and how she even penetrated mainstream music.

When “Just Dance” was getting air play and the odd mention in tabloid columns, Lady GaGa was namedropped, quickly followed by “the electro queen of 2009” or “the electro pop diva”, I’m pretty sure no-one linked the peroxide eccentric with the lasery tripe of “Just Dance”. I was excited and greatly anticipated the arrival of electro in the mainstream UK music circuit. I would be chuffed if electro started blaring out when my tone-deaf partner had Capital FM on in the car.

My enthusiasm was deluded. This goddamn bitch is not only not producing electro, but really trite R&B. Any wonder I didn’t connect the name to the tune.
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