Rebecca Davies speaks to the poet James Carter
There’s a trend right now for fashion houses to show the collections we still dub Cruise in far-flung locales. I’m writing this in the airport in Dubai, following Chanel’s show; a week ago Dior Cruise-ed to New York and chugged us from Manhattan to Brooklyn on a chic branded ferry; last summer, that house showed in Monaco, coincidentally the site of Louis Vuitton’s inaugural Cruise show this weekend.
Only four sides have drawn more Championship games than Brighton this season and a stalemate looks a live runner in tonight’s first leg play-off tie against Derby County.
It’s odd seeing a Dior show in New York. Namely, because it all feels so very Parisian. Actually, it’s Parisian per se – which conjures up images of chi chi little pied-de-poule suits and veiled hats, baguettes, breton stripes, clipped poodles, that ooh-la-la Francophile shtick – but reminiscent of the Dior we see in Paris. There was the same stripped-back set, this time an expanse of white catwalk and a metallic mirrored backdrop reflecting the scene like an idealised Hudson River. We were watching Cruise, after all. The real Hudson was more Dior grey than mirror, in reality, but even that fitted the identity of the house.
Indy blogger Sarah Outen is a British adventurer, on a mission to loop the planet using a rowing boat, bike and kayak. The last phase saw her row solo across the North Pacific from Japan to Alaska in 2013 and she writes now from the start of the next phase – a 1400 mile kayak journey through the Aleutian Islands in Alaska with another British paddler, Justine Curgenven. Here are Sarah’s thoughts ahead of the journey…
It is the time of year when I wish I had more space: space on my front steps (which are now crowded with all 28 tomato plants, much to the joy/annoyance of the milkman/postman/Him Indoors), space in the mini-greenhouse and space at Plot 35a. Every week I transplant more seedlings to the allotment, only to [...]
Eurovision 2014 starts today with a series of qualifying heats in Copenhagen, leading to the event proper on Saturday night.
Last night was the Met Gala, celebrating the opening of the exhibition Charles James: Beyond Fashion. It’s lauded as the east coast equivalent to the Oscars: but compare the Met’s media reach to the Oscars, which pulled in 48 million television viewers from the USA alone, and it pales.
Then again, the Oscars is, ostensibly, about more than just frocks. It’s about prizes, about ambitions thwarted and dreams fulfilled. The Met Gala is about fund-raising. Never forget that. It’s a giant charity lunch, gussied up in fancy clothing. Last year, Gwyneth Paltrow said it “sucked”. Our attention, and the media hullabaloo, is all about the (cat)walk to the event, not the event itself.
I bet people wonder what fashion editors do during the “off season”: write dodgy novels, maybe? Shop? Painstakingly plan ensembles to be crated and shipped ready for the next round of shows, when said eds are released from their pen, like the rabid hounds that shred unwanted visitors to Mr Burns’ mansion in The Simpsons? Only fashion editors voraciously attack and devour garments, and sometimes designers, rather than intruders.
Matt Haig is best known for his critically-acclaimed adult bestsellers but Echo Boy marks his first foray into young adult literature, and his second into sci-fi.
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