Ashamed

(Hedi Slimane)

I haven't posted anything here for so long.
Shame on me.
I feel like hiding behing my hair.
I have good reasons for this though. First, fashion week killed me.
I was litteraly dead for a whole week. Spent entire days sleeping and went to my parent's house for the week-end. That's generally a good sign I'm deeply depressed.

Then, fashion kind of bored me.
I mean... Lately I've been wondering if I still believed in fashion. It's horrible for me to say this, cause fashion is what my job in mainly made of, but see, with all this economical crisis going on - I AM OBSESSED YEAH - I feel like it's not OK to cry tears of joy in front of a YSL sequins jumpsuit - OH MY GOD did you see this gorgeouness ?

Sorry...
And anyways, there isn't much to cry tears of joy about.
I've been trying hard, though. I really meant to find something cool, fun, interessing, to write on this blog, fashion wise. So I bought a lot of magazines.


I read them all.
No excitement. Nothing worth blogging. Except, maybe the Lakshmi Menon Dazed editorial, but everybody already mentionned it.
Last week I went shopping with a friend. Like, easy shopping, H&M, favorite thrift store ... Absolute boredom. The only suff I felt like buying was torn black leggings and oversized vintage t-shirts. And then I realized I could just tear up one of my hundreds black leggings and I already owned 869 vintage t-shirts.

I thought to myself what's wrong with me ?
And realized I was just depressed.
By the Paris weather, by the titles in the newspapers, by the extinction of polar bears (I rent An unconvenient truth, the Al Gore documentary, the other night. I cried. Advice : don't see it if you're down, it will make you wanna kill yourself).
I am also depressed buy all kinds of family problems you don't want to hear about.
Let alone my unexisting love life.
I didn't say sex. I said love.

Anyways. I realized I was depressed and so I decided to do the only thing to do when one feels really down : www.topshop.com

Here is the result.
(You can tell I'm not Ok by the absolute randomness of the sizes I ordered. )

Ok so the belt is like a belt version of the YSL cage shoes, and I feel like dying when I think about how it will look when I pair it to my vintage leather dress. I think the beaded blue scarf is crazy and very me. The striped tunic is just so similar to the one that got stolen in my housewarming party a year ago - Yes. I know. That and a vintage cheetah print dress and a fake quilted Chanel bag and a scarf I just loved. I cried for weeks, but it's only material. The one shoulder dress and the bandage grey skirt look very Herve Leger to me and I feel excited.... And I don't really know what happened to me with the pink acid wash cropped t-shirt, it was an impulse.

I am now 200 € lighter, and you know what ? I feel better.
This, my friends, proves fashion still works. I am the living proof that consuming is a feel-good activity. That getting new clothes can make your life prettier, and that therefore, in spite of the crisis and all, the fashion industry is not going to die right away, and I will keep my job for a little while.
And most of all, I'll keep on blogging. Cause, even when I have nothing to say, the result after a few minutes talking to you guys is : I feel so much better.
xoxo

Stuck

LET ME OUT !
I DON'T WANT TO BE A FASHION VICTIM !

There's something a little scary about Paris fashion week. This profusion of shows, people and parties is not normal. No normal person would be able to follow that crazy rythm. My days - even though they start around noon, which means I miss all the morning shows, but that's kind of their problem - my days feel like weeks to my poor little tired body and mind.
But thank god I am high...
High on fashion.
A famous fashion guru whose name I've already mentionned here (I don't want to write it down too often cause you might find out I'm kind of secretly in love with him) told me yesterday night that I have a "naive" view on fashion. I guess he is right.
I can love a monacal black velvet Lanvin dress enough to take 6 pictures of it in a row - blurry artistic picture though, have a look at this amazingness on style.com, it's the last passage.

(check out that this time I got a very decent seating !)

I love fashion enough to be excited to steal a picture of Carine Roitfeld running out of the show.
OK.
I mean Carine Roitfeld's back, running out of the show....
You cannot immagine how excited everybody was about the Lanvin défilé. It was a suspended moment, out of time, out of space, those splendid heavy strapped sharp black and shiny silhouettes walking for what seemed a second or ages on the wet black tarmac... Those exagerated gold jewels, those weapon shoes, those belted drapée. I felt shivers all over my arms. I really did. That only happened to me once before. Lanvin ss O9.
Anyways Lanvin was great. And unfortunately you can't tell what a moment of poetry was the Margiela show on this pic.
I can't find a close-up of the shoes on style.com... They were amazing half-stilettos, half-wedges.
I ended up with the show of a girl I really love, Andrea Crews. I love her amazon, jungle warrior, gothic princess, punk godess vision of woman.
After that, it was 22.30 and I was already starting to get drunk. Yeah, you know, the little glass of cherry liquor at Lanvin, the glass of red wine at Margiela, the Vitamin Water - vodka cocktail at Andrea Crews.... See, that is the secret of fashion people who are able to keep on partying after a whole full crazy day of shows. They get drunk. I got drunk.
So I kept on partying.
Went to this new very exclusive place in Saint Germain called le Montana. There were so many celebrities I would feel guilty to name them, like I am violating the founding rules of a secret club. Anyways most of them are french and you really don't care. That thing is totally crazy. It is a full open bar. Drunk drunk and drunker.
Everybody ended up at le Baron where a compact fashion crowd was queuing outside hoping to get into the night temple and stare for a little while at the models and editors dancing their tiring day away on the dance floor. I sneaked in immediatly. This place is a second home to me.
The atmosphere inside was wet and electric. It was 3.30 am and I realized that from that very minute, people would not be able to say anything coherent, and would not remember what happened from now on the next day. So I just left, without saying goodbye of course. Noone is supposed to know when you went to bed. Actually you're kind of supposed to never go to bed.
I escaped fashion for a few hours.
I am about to dive naïvely in it again.
It's 1 pm. My hungover brain is now high on Advil, and I have to rush for the Jeremy Scott show.
xxx

Italian sunday afternoon

- Pixie is HOT on the cover of Italian Vogue. Steven Meisel again.

- I do bangles piling lately and I think it's pretty cool, especially with my fat Chanel bangle (top left, but you can't see the logo).

- I wear my mom's glasses, straight from the 80's, that I adapted to my view, and a italian fashion editor asked me this morning if it was Cutler and Gross...

- The only make up I brought here is my Dioshow mascara and Givenchy prisme blush, and I think I could live a whole life on these only.

-Love the old furniture of the hotel.

- Sorry this is a phone photo

- I'm running out of cashews

xxx

Principe di Savoia

Steven Meisel - March 2009 W

I am lucky but I am bored.
I did the hot bath already, and ate all the cashew nuts from the mini-bar. I always eat the cashew nuts from the mini-bar first thing when I get in an hotel room. Private ritual. I just ordered room-service. A salad an a glass of wine. I am not hungry, just bored. Italian TV sucks and there is not a single page of style.com I haven't seen twice at least today. They charge 24 euros a day for internet connexion and a pay-per-view movie is 18 euros !
Anyways.
Sometimes, being alone in a luxury hotel feels like the top of the world to me. A Lost in Translation experience. I am so able to see myself as the heroine of a movie called My Life. Sometimes.
Today I can't. I feel like loud music, drunk friend and stilettos that kill your feet. I could just dress up, go out and party ? I brought cool outfits, just in case. In case this guy would have wanted to take me out to fw parties. He just texted me he was stuck at a dinner. Which means he probably is hanging out with a few models.
Maybe I should call this hot lesbian girl I know from Paris and met in the lobby earlier ?
Have to work early tomorrow though.
I'm still hungover from last night. One of those crazy Baron nights you don't remember the last few hours from. Don't know how I even got to Milan today.
I miss Paris.
Is writing about my life compatible with the anonymous blogger status ?
Sigh.
Boredom.
Sigh.
Bad mood alert.
More from the Meisel W editorial ?
OK.
I might just call this girl.
Room service arrived.
The salad is ridiculously small (28 euros) but the wine is great.