London Fashion Week: Jaeger

London Fashion Week started on Sunday and I have been a bit out of the loop because of the previous week's excitement but I wouldn't miss Jaeger's second catwalk show in its 125 year history, particularly as my Autumn/Winter wardrobe is dominated by what I saw at the February show.

LFW shows take place in a marquee in front of the Natural History Museum in Kensington. There's a champagne bar while you're waiting to go in and what struck me was how many women in the crowd were wearing Jaeger. Now it's only polite to wear the designer to the show, but the crowd were fashion journalists who dash from one collection to the next and it's hard to see how they could change between shows. I was wearing this top, and I must have seen it on seven or eight other women.


Most gratifying of all was sighting Mary Portas, the woman who masterminded the transformation of Harvey Nicks, wearing a coat-dress I have waiting in the wardrobe to be worn. She wore hers as a mini dress, with bare legs. I'll be wearing mine over a skinny rib sweater and wide leg trousers, as soon as it gets cold enough.


One Jaeger wearer is Sarah Brown, the Prime Minister's wife, who wore Jaeger at a party she hosted last night at 10 Downing Street to celebrate the launch of fashion week.

I had ten minutes or so with Alexandra Shulman to discuss my Booker Prize dress, and we agreed that the sleeves issue is a total nightmare. You might think that being editor of Vogue you would no longer have such problems. You would be wrong. I was stunned by one of the disasters she recounted to me.

Took my seat on the second row and immediately about twenty snappers came and started shoving their lenses into my face, and how nice, I thought that the fashion world recognises literary excellence, until I realised I was sitting behind Erin O'Connor and two of the Jagger girls. O'Connor was wearing this coat, which I had nearly bought but finally went for the Armani instead, and seeing it on her, I am very glad I didn't. It would have destroyed it for me. I am not quite the same shape or size or height as Erin O'Connor.


The key to the show was colour - dragee shades, which I love, stronger than pastels- and sleeves - floaty, handkerchief sleeves on maxi dresses and tops, Incredibly clever of the Jaeger people to work out that we will wear maxi-dresses, but not if they're halter neck.


You can see the whole show here, but first on my list to buy next summer is this top



I'm incredibly pleased that in Britain we have a range which is priced at the low end of designer with such strong quirky style. I wonder if the fact that Jaeger is producing such beautiful wearable clothes is down to the fact that its designer, Karen Boyd, looks like this:

I have that scarf
and yes, that's my neck to the left of Erin's head.

Oh what am I going to wear Pt 2

This afternoon I went to the Jaeger SS09 show at London Fashion Week and managed to snatch ten minutes beforehand with Alexandra Shulman, editor of Vogue, in which I talked her through my what-am-I-going-to-wear issues. I shan't divulge the content of a private conversation, all I can say is, my view that it was pointless to go looking for an evening dress with sleeves was confirmed.

More on Jaeger tomorrow

Edward Stiechen for Vogue

Justine Picardie writes:

The pictures, taken during Steichen's 14-year reign at Vogue and Vanity Fair, when he was dubbed 'America's court portraitist', reveal themselves as the prototypes for the work of Mario Testino and Annie Leibovitz: for they are intended to flatter, rather than reveal imperfection; to encapsulate heroism and intensify iconic status; in other words, to make the rich and famous look like even more gilded versions of themselves.

The wrong stripes

Science has now vindicated what we always knew: vertical stripes make you look fatter. But note the final sentence.

. . . women’s bodies are, by their very nature, curvy things. Stripes are straight. If you put a straight vertical stripe on a curvy bottom, the line of the stripe will be distorted by the body beneath – which will serve only to accentuate the bulge.

The same is not nearly so true of horizontal stripes, which is why hooped tights occasionally make a comeback, whereas vertically striped ones, as favoured by Mary Quant in the Sixties, are consigned to the history books.

In truth, stripes in general are not particularly flattering to the fuller figure. Geometric patterns and organic shapes, on the other hand, work very well, breaking up the surface area covered and confusing the eye into believing it smaller. But the awful truth remains: being fat makes you look fat, and no amount of fabric, can ever truly conceal it.

Oh what shall I wear?

For the Booker Prize black tie dinner on October 14, I am toying with wearing a sea green MaxMara long dress which I've had for years but only found one occasion to wear. I have the bag, I have the shoes, but the dress is sleeveless and I must have something to cover my arms, and what shall it be?

Looking in Selfridge's all I can find are those beaded Caroline Charles jackets which I find a bit matronly. Someone suggests a shrug, which I always think look they've been designed for babies. I don't like the shrunken look. Someone else mentions a wrap, but how do you eat dinner with a shawl tied round your shoulders, and won't it just fall off? You can wind up looking like a crazy old lady with a shawl tied akimbo around your shoulders.

£695 just to cover your arms

At last, the New York shows

Michael Kors

In all the excitement I have completely missed the big stories of the week, that sciency thing that happened on Wednesday, and the New York collections.

Jess Cartner-Morley in the Guardian has the summing-up:

What this means in terms of steering the direction of fashion is that femininity - in its American form as wholesome, healthsome and sunshine-bright, rather than the European incarnation as complicated, mysterious, troublesome and flouncy - once again rules the catwalk. The seeds of androgyny and sci-fi futurism sown in so many of last season's influential shows have fallen on unfriendly ground here. There was a clear sartorial divide, this week, among the show audiences who parade around the venue between pre sentations: while the Europeans are embracing sharp black tailoring and challenging trouser shapes, the Americans are all about an uptown citrus shift (think Cindy) or a cute floral leavened with a black belt (pure Michelle).

Books and frocks, my two favourite things.

I had been sitting on the knowledge of the Booker shortlisting since last Wednesday, unable to tell anyone but a few close friends. The Booker people let your publisher know in advance so they can organise reprints and have stock ready to go into the bookshops. To his credit, when I told Harry, his first question was: what are you going to wear. That boy gets more metrosexual by the minute. It will be manscara next.

One person I did let into my confidence was Anya Hindmarch who 'gifted' as the saying goes in fashion PR a gold clutch. Yay, Anya, thank you. Saturday was taken up with buying a dress for the grand party at the V&A on the night of the shortlist announcement. Eventually I got this from Jaeger which I had admired many times but always assumed it was the wrong shape for me. Two very bossy young German sales assistants insisted I tried it on, and - well, what do you know? So I succumbed to the matching necklace, too.

On Tuesday, at the hairdressers, I happened into L.K. Bennett, and found a pair of very high heels which were oddly quite comfortable. I'll not be previewing my October 14 wardrobe, but for the moment, I'm thinking of a MaxMara long dress I've only worn once, with something to cover the arms, as yet unbought.

More on all of this later.

Someone in the comments said that the Booker was only bettered by the Nobel, and I think that's probably true. It is the international literary prize that has the most attention from the media. It is not open to American writers, but then the Pulitzer is only open to US citizens and the National Book Award is only open to books published in the US, which rules out many writers, such as myself, who have had difficulty getting a US deal. Regular readers will recollect that I posted a rejection letter from one major house which raved about the book but said it was 'too British' for the American readers. There has, in the past few months, been a huge upswing in Anglophilia in the US. This I'm sure can be only reason why, in the twenty-four hours after the shortlist announcement, eleven major American publishers contacted my agent to ask if they could be sent copies to consider.

There is an import edition currently available on Amazon.com with a 2-4week delivery time , but anyone abroad who'd like to order would do better with the Book Depository, which offers books at Amazon.uk prices but free delivery worldwide and has several fulfilment centres in the US.

This is a wonderful shortlist to be on (sorry, Sir Salman, I'm sure your time will come) and I'm particularly thrilled to share the list with the wonderful and funny Sebastian Barry and the great Indian writer Amitav Ghosh. Someone remarked on the fact that I am the only woman on the shortlist. It is ten years since this was last the case and sixteen since an all-male shortlist caused such outrage that it led to the creation of the Orange Prize. One lamentable exclusion was a short and extraordinary book by the Australian writer Helen Garner. It's called The Spare Room and was described by Peter Carey as the 'perfect book'.

So five weeks to go until the big night. Several people have raised questions about the press photos. here's the thing, any day now I must get round to contacting all those papers which took flattering pics of me over the years and ask them to delete the ones that are nearly a decade old and replace them with ones of me looking older and wiser.

I'd particularly like to commend that newspaper of record the International Herald Tribune for knocking five years of my age.

For the record, this remains my favourite picture of myself. It's six years old but it looks like me, and it is me. It was taken by one of my closest friends, more used to photographing warlords with the latest must-have AK47. I asked him if he would do mendacious flattery but he said not for love nor money, no.
Of course that was before Roger sorted out my fringe.

NOTE: The Jaeger dress isn't the one I'll be wearing at the black tie dinner on the 14th October, it's the one I wore at the shortlist party at the V&A on Tuesday night.

Harry Contemplates Modernity

For some men, skin care and grooming goes beyond a quick shave. In fact, some men – both "metrosexuals" and the simply fastidious – have long followed a strict cleanse, tone and moisturise routine. And now, a new beauty must-have tailored specifically for 'im Indoors has arrived.

The article in Tuesday’s Independent is referring to the launch of YSL’s Touche Eclat for Men.
( read it here)

I don’t know about ‘must have’. For me it’s more a case of must try to understand exactly what it is they are talking about.
I thought I would refer to this feature before the Thoughtful Dresser brought it to my attention. She regards my ignorance of male cosmetics ( that’s probably the wrong term) as quite neanderthal.
I am not quite sure why I remain in a state of ignorance. Way back in the late 60’s I was an early adopter. Well, at least as far as hair was concerned. Tame, a hair conditioner, was for me an utterly radical discovery. ( This was in the days when it was assumed we all had dandruff because the only shampoos in our house were ‘medicated’) And then came Cossack hair spray for men. A black and red canister with the silhouette of a charging Cossack. It didn’t exactly transform my life but it did help keep the mod hair cut in place. I thought it was rather sophisticated. My father, however, found my use of it just a little bit questionable.
Anyhow YSL’s new product launch reminds me that I really should investigate the two Clinique products that TTD has brought to my attention. Apparently I should be using them regularly.
I guess it may be time to get modern all over again.
And I know modern will mean no more pictures of Cossacks.


Note: My searches have not found a picture of the male version of the product. So I have put the wrong picture in rather than a photo of an investment banker (which is what the Independent used.)

Get a load of

this

Normal service will be resumed as soon as all the fuss dies down

Harry Mentions Handbags

I notice that the Thoughtful Dresser hasn’t mentioned handbags recently.
I am stepping outside my comfort zone by venturing into this territory. I know little about the current mania for these rather expensive accessories.
However, on my recent trip to Paris I stayed with my old friend James. He has been resident there for ten years and offers consultancy to a number of businesses who require intelligent marketing input from an urbane Brit with several languages and a wealth of experience.
In comparing notes on each other’s current pre-occupations he informed me that he had recently been retained by an LA based brand, Romanek, purveyors of high fashion handbags.
I have to confess that this is a name that I wasn’t familiar with.
Anyhow, he e- mailed me recently and amongst other things told me that the new Romanek web site is up and running. And in the spirit of returning a favour I am drawing it to your attention.
I believe that the Thoughtful Dresser favours Anya Hindmarch.
But I gather that the Romanek ‘Rockstar’ ( above) is often to be seen at glitzy functions. And the Thoughtful Dresser will be attending a very prestigious one in a few weeks time. Congratulations from Harry.

The Booker Prize shortlist

. . . . is announced.

The Secret Scripture - Sebastian Barry

The Sea of Poppies - Amitav Ghosh Murray

The Clothes on Their Backs - Linda Grant

The Northern Clemency - Philip Hensher

A Fraction of The Whole - Steve Toltz

The White Tiger - Aravind Adiga

The shortlisted authors were informed last Wednesday as keen-eyed readers of this site might have worked out.

All shortlisted authors will be doing a reading at the South Bank Centre in London 13 October. Details here

Something wrong with the universe

New collection from Marks and Spencer*

New collection from Victoria Beckham

* Available up to size 20

Playing your greens

America

A man in heels

AA Gill gets in touch with his feminine side. I've always had a soft spot for him, having shared a make-up chair with him a few years back:

The first thing that struck me as I opened the box was how excited — despite myself — I was to have got them, my first pair of patent red stilettos. I say excited not in the tumescent, opening-dark-closets way, but in the birthday-present, new-kit sense. The second thing I thought was, Christ, these are difficult to get on. You can’t just plunge your feet into them. You have to be sitting down. And then you have to be sort of erected, like . . . like . . . an erectable erection thingy. And third and finally, I thought, aaaaaaahhhh f***! The agony. The AGONY! According to internet facts, the pressure on the heel of a stiletto is greater than that of an elephant standing on one foot. How this was verified is unknown — who lay under the elephant, and then their mother’s heels, and screamed: “This one’s much worse”?
. . .
And not for the first time I marvelled at how much work and technique goes into being a woman. As opposed to just being a man, which means getting up and getting your zip on the right way round. There is so much more to master in being a mistress — all adolescent boys should be made to wear stilettos for a day, to teach them respect.

Anti-greige: a manifesto, of sorts

A few months ago, it was announced that Patricia Field would be designing a collection for Marks and Spencer. That collection opened, slightly oddly, in New York yesterday. It will include:

flirty, 1950’s-style, puffball dresses in scarlet polka-dot jacquard and rose-print taffeta, which will cost £75 and £99, and a turquoise, angel-sleeved, silk shift, based on the dress the actress wore in the “Baby Shower Scene” in the SATC film, which will also cost £75.

A black, sequined catsuit, at £99, and a skin-tight, black and white striped military jacket, £75, worn with gold leggings, were in the style of the sex-mad character of Samantha, played by Kim Cattrall.

Ms Kate Bostock, the executive director of all clothing at Marks & Spencer, watched the show from a ringside seat. She described the Patricia Field collection, developed with co-designer, David Dalrymple, as one of the most adventurous projects in the British high street chain’s history.

Field was at the show

. . . wearing a short blue Lurex mini-dress from her M&S collection, £60, and black, platform Dior stilettos which cost about ten times as much.

“If I can wear the clothes, anybody can,” she said. “Fashion is about enjoying clothes and having fun; it’s not about age.”

I slightly fear that the mad old bag look is upon us. It's such a tricky call, to go with the beige classics and die slowly inside, or follow the mutton route and be laughed at behind your back. I am starting to think that a touch of vulgarity, or blatant sex appeal, might be the hot chilli needed to spice up an outfit when you hit 50 (and Field is in her 60s, I believe)

On the other hand, some of the pieces look like 1980s market stall revival.

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

I'd rather go barefoot

Yesterday morning I spent an hour in Selfridge's shoe department having decided to let slip the dogs of finance and splash out on a pair of stupendous evening shoes - Jimmy Choo, Gina, Louboutin, bring it on. Brief, these shoes will go with a long dress, be worn climbing in and out of taxis, bearable to take an hour standing up for cocktails, followed by dinner and then quick to slip on under the table cloth if called upon to make a sudden move. Budget, £300+

There were exactly three pairs of shoes in Selfridge's which did not have towering, needle-thin spikey heels, I mean really, really high. The first pair (Chanel) were too narrow, the second (also Chanel) they didn't have in my size, and the third (Jimmy Choo) were £540. What?!

As Jess Cartner-Morley said in the Guardian yesterday:

After all, the whole women-and-shoes thing spun off the crazy chart ages ago. A pair of Jimmy Choos has become a ritual way to celebrate: a special occasion, a pay rise or even (for Rebecca Adlington) an Olympic gold. With this much symbolism invested in shoes, it is inevitable that they are beginning to look less and less like functional footwear.

If you look at the websites of these designers, they do in fact make shoes with lower heels, but Selfridge's buyers didn't order them, they told me, and where they did, they sold out at once. They always look baffled when they tell you something like this has sold out. Why would women want fabulous shoes they can actually walk in? Such a mystery.

Barbra, is that you?

A sex bomb? You couldn't have become a doctor?