The 80s are dead. Subculture is dead. My muscle tone is possibly also a tiny bit dead.
And yet I remember London in 1981 and...the street style of this city expressed on the runway still packs a punch dunnit?
London delivers.
The answer to all the misery of a corporatised universe is so stupidly simple.
It's colour.
Nothing could be more subversive when we're all meant to wear a chic and cheap uniform (neutrals, pale grey, bloody neutral layers).
And all the GEN Y BLOGS tell us that for the home and the body, black and white denotes taste. It's an unbreakable code.
TASTE in monochrome capitols.
Fuck taste.
Isn't that what Diana Vreeland said essentially?
Bad taste is like paprika. I think she said that. And you need just a little bit of ugly to make it all work. So the shows are all stuffed with super ugly but funny statement sweaters and THE CLASH of print and polychrome and club clothes from 1986 meets a bit of glam rock with a smattering of Pointer Sisters circa 1976.
So...now I really want loads of electric blue and zebra boots and floral Japanese doll hair clips and STARS in homage to Bowie and fishnets again. Yeah fishnets. I had electric blue fishnets when I was 14. They made my legs look so cold…and cool.
I love wearing clothes that make Hetty slightly dizzy. It's my function in life really.
To remind her that she is exquisite like Sevres china and I am a bit of a SPORK.
Hetty in pale ice blue is so incredibly posh and restrained and in tune with her surroundings.
But that's Mayfair.
Hello Brixton.
Images courtesy of Vogue http://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2016-ready-to-wear
http://peterjensen.co.uk/; http://www.duroolowu.com/
http://garethpughstudio.com/; http://www.ryanlo.co.uk/