MEET LOELLA...

If I was a Mitford I would be... Jessica, she did everything
worth doing.

My eyes are hazel and my hair is the colour of cold black coffee.
I hate being called pale and interesting. Or even worse, Goth.

I wore leather elbow patches and caramel corduroy before Jarvis Cocker and I have always had a fringe. In fact I was an introverted toddler who hid behind a wall of hair before boys brought me into the daylight.
I am a polymath. Which in actual fact means I can barely settle on one art form. In LA they call this being a “slash”: artist/mother/bloggista/copywriter/burlesqueperformanceartist etc.
In Seattle they call it a “creative consultant”. But in London they call it ”wanker”. This said... I paint this blog and I am watching YOU!
So, be nice.

I never know what to wear in hotel lobbies... unless I am with a large touring band. I am superstitious about perfume and I wear my Mother’s Sicilian cross with everything. I was raised to believe that art matters more than commerce (but commerce often wins). I like absurdity, incense and abstract painting. I hate hairspray. I seem to spend my life...
in clothes that smell like yesterdays party.

I love Hetty because she looks like a Hitchcock blonde but laughs like Diana Vreeland, and because she say’s sorry when it’s rarely her fault.

My favourite dead person is... Elsa Schiaparelli

LOELLA LOVES...

Eavesdropping
70s Cacharel blouses in tense and tiny floral prints
Sarah Moon
Romance was Born
Cuir de Russie parfum/Lapsang Souchong tea
Sexy old bastards or men who dress like them:
Terence Stamp, Bailey, Jarvis
Grey wool pleated skirts
School jumpers with frayed cuffs
Wet tangled hair
Androgyny
Keats

SO DOWNTOWN

High street clothes “seasoned” in Bergamot tea
and boiled beetroot.
Last night’s eyeliner on purpose.
Always a contrasting bra.
Faber classic for the tube/bus stop/café.
A ball gown to the cinema.
Ironic use of sequins, ongoing...
More than three different decades of vintage in one look.
Boy’s underpants (they have to be stolen).