I was impressed and inspired to see how great the Central St Martins Graduate show at London Fashion Week was this Fall/Winter'11. There's something especially fresh happening in London again....
I was taken by the irreverent cool of Marta Marques and Paulo Almeida's collection of frayed mid-blue denim and slouchy black knitwear.
There was something of a nu-guard Acne Jeans attitude, but most of all, it felt like a raw and modern take on 90's Kate Moss- when she was with Johnny and they just oozed the natural, devil-may-care cool of youth.
Time to get out all that denim in my closet and work up a look just in time for some early Spring strutting in the East Village.
So yeah. We all think Axl Rose is just an angry redneck with cornrows now. Which, y'know, he probably always has been somewhere deep inside, if Truth be told.
But none of that matters to me. There's never been a prettier face in Rock, and when Axl was young he was that perfectly potent mix of pretty and bad; the ferociousness lurking just beneath the surface, the potential for truck-stop trashiness just barely tempered by a wickedly original sense of style and androgenous bravado.
I'm not sure that Axl's ever really been given his fair dues as a style icon, (maybe because he's become such an unlikeable asshole) but I think he was truly an original:
The Night Porter-esque hard rock fetishism of the Live at The Ritz '88 era....
....the mash up of Grunge meets Bumpkin'-Rock-Raver of the early 90's: plaid, big sneakers, mesh, hill-billy leather and those iconic spandex shorts.
The "LA Cowboy goes vaguely Cosby" period of November Rain and Stephanie Seymore- oversized blazers, collegiate sweatshirts, silk shirts, snakeskin boots
And the hair.
Oh, the hair.
I'm quite sure my lingering preference for redheads has much to do with Axl's wispy auburn mane.
Uh huh kids, I think I just let the cat out of the bag; this chic girl loves a bit of honest-to-goodness badass trash. But that's ok, Axl may have fallen a long way since his glory days, but I will always consider him the original and BEST angel-faced, styled-out, whiny-assed Devil in rock n' roll.
And in the words of Mr. Rose, if you don't like it, why don't you just... FUCK OFF!
I'm loving all the luxe minimalism of relaxed sportswear shapes grounded in new bone, putty, and ceramic colored neutrals. A fresh, sunny kick of pumpkin, persimmon and marigold make the look new and add a sense of urban exoticism.
All a girl needs is subtle tan (fresh from her winter vacation, of course!) and easy, breezy hair to keep the look youthful and quietly sexy.
These are a Thinking Woman's clothes, and the play between unwavering geometric lines and bold fluidity remind me of the monumental cast-concrete works of Rachel Whiteread and the hypnotically flowing draped pieces by Christo and Jean-Claude.
Somehow these contrasting works speak to me about the same things: The natural meeting the man-made. Touch and tactility. Uncomprimising boldness that also holds an inherent softness.
Throw in some quietly self-reflective Japonism and call it CHIC!
Summer has just ended but I'm already dreaming of next Spring....sigh