Contax love

The joys of using my Contax with a black and white film.
Exploring the streets of London and my regular haunts.

LNCC love

It has taken me one whole year to finally take a tour of the LNCC in Dalston. I live in North London and despite having a car I tend to inadvertently neglect certain areas because they simply are so far away from my own hood. Not much of an argument, I know. But since I had a meeting on Saturday afternoon in the East End I decided that a visit was imperative. This is how I found myself in the shabby urban hinterland, magical kingdom of unbearable hipsters, where broken glass frequently crunches underfoot and fly-tipped junk is part of the picture (I’m slightly exaggerating of course for poetic purposes - haha). I do find great beauty in the jagged ugliness of places on the edge (except for Harlesden where I lived for 10 months and I still won’t celebrate the burnt out cars, boarded up houses and crack dealers). The Late Night Chameleon Café occupies a peculiar position, inexplicably concealed in the enormous basement of a grey industrial looking building, opposite a police station and a dusty carpet shop that didn’t seem to be attracting many customers. Having visited their brilliant website on a regular basis I knew this was going to be a very satisfactory moment. I confess I had been wondering how the fascinating concept devised by the creating team would be interpreted in “real” life as opposed to the virtual platform and expected to maybe find a shift in emphasis. The minute I rang the doorbell and entered the space I was overcome by the intensely vivid and thrilling Gary Card displays. It felt like I was suddenly immersed into a mysteriously enticing world lost somewhere between Blade Runner and Dungeons & Dragons. If the resolve of John Skelton and Dan Mitchell is to make retail and storytelling be appreciated side by side then all I can say is that they have succeeded. LNCC is simply genius! From the imaginative boldness of the interiors (three rooms dedicated to clothes and accessories, one to music and books, one used as a party room/changing rooms in the spirit of pleasure and a long futuristic looking tunnel) to the astonishingly informed knowledge reflected in the selection of pieces. I can’t begin to tell you the excitement I felt when I saw so many damned beautiful clothes in one place: Wacko Maria, G.V.G.V, Damir Doma, Ann Demeulemeester, Sasquatchfabrix, Marsell, Haider Ackermann, Preen, Rick Owens among many other wonderful brands. It was difficult to be on good behaviour and not spend all my money. And while certain “exclusive” shops may acquire a reputation for employing irritating, critical, pushy and snobby staff members I can safely say that LNCC does the complete opposite. Dan and Charlotte were a constant source of enchantment, elegance and friendliness. Like all great retails spaces, the LNCC defies easy categorization and has emerged as one of the most exciting fashion adventures London (and possibly Europe) has to offer, leading the way for an entire new genre of shopping, whether it be online or not. I left feeling a mixture of awe and admiration thinking that the LNCC will never quite be equalled, let alone surpassed.

All pictures courtesy of LNCC, collage by July Stars

The Observer's O:Man supplement

Peter Lyle, the editor of O: (The Observer's fashion supplement), recently asked me to present a small illustrated selection of my "menswear" influences for issue No. 23. I feel immeasurably lucky to have been given the opportunity to contribute. O: is a highly informative and exquisitely curated publication bringing together a great blend of shoots and contrastingly intriguing portraits. In this issue alone there are glimpses into the rich and stimulating worlds of Margaret Howell, Werner Herzog and Dan Lepard as well as a shoot set in the house of the immensely entertaining and mysterious James Goldstein! Here's my page. Hope you'll enjoy it...
Huge thank you to Peter Lyle and Caroline Issa

Photo and scan: July Stars

Hermès

I haven’t written anything here for a little while because the words have refused to appear. Not for lack of inspiration or enthusiasm but because it feels misguided thinking about fashion or photography while the death toll in Japan is already well into the thousands. It’s heartbreaking. Many of my favourite brands are Japanese (45rpm, Wacko Maria, Journal Standard Luxe) and my Twitter feed has been exploding with continuous information from the Tokyo based creatives I follow. While the rest of the world has succumbed to hysteria and morbid anticipation, their calm, sense of perspective and self-preservation fills me with admiration.

Tonight, despite the emotional awareness of recent world events, I thought I should go back to writing about what I love even if the task may seem daunting right now. Maybe the light-hearted theatre of clothes can continue to be a source of enjoyment and provide entertainment.
I don’t, as a rule, talk much about fashion weeks. Those shows are immediately dissected by thousands of blogs or journalists and are steaming-hot for about ten minutes. I prefer to engage fully in the experience once it’s over and everyone’s already thinking about the next season. It is a somewhat difficult exercise when you are assailed everywhere by live information. However, I find that you can offer a more honest assessment if you can look at the shows with a fresh mind at a later date.
Christophe Lemaire’s first collection at Hermès was unveiled during Paris fashion week and it’s impossible for me not to mention it. It is probably one of the greatest transformations of the season. What has actually happened is that Lemaire has taken the familiar heritage trademark of Hermès and confidently injected cultish eighties/sportswear elements to create exciting and phenomenally beautiful clothes. I fell in love. I couldn’t conceal my delight when I saw the colours, sophisticated soft leathers, loose cashmere, relaxed tunics, coats and jackets reminiscent of tribal costumes, the ecclesiastical hoods, the skinny black leather trousers, the boots and accessories. And all of it combined with the fastidious luxury and elegance of the house. I have to admit that I was thrilled by the result and hope that Christophe Lemaire will continue to triumph at Hermès for many years to come!

All pictures courtesy of Hermès, collage by July Stars

London Fashion Week

I took these pictures for Style.com during London Fashion Week.
Marios Schwab, Holly Fulton, Christopher Raeburn and Richard Nicoll

Thierry Mugler Autumn/Winter 2011

The start of Paris fashion week and a few words about the Mugler show. Formichetti clearly raced through the brand’s history and gained a huge head start by adhering to a profound Mugler conservatism. He has embraced the universally acknowledged Mugler trademarks: architectural, structural, powerful and exaggerated shapes to suggest the existence of a provoking superwoman. Presumably dictated by hours spent looking at the archives, Formichetti and Sébastien Peigné’s collection doesn’t innovate. It simply offered an enthusiastic concoction of PVC, stretch, rubber, fur jackets, transparent fabrics, leather. All fairly representative of the brand. The colour range was restricted to mostly black, white, pale pink and blue. The cultural heritage of Thierry Mugler has been preserved. But something strange happened while I was watching the show. I realised that despite the incredible theatricality, the poetic confusion that reigned on the catwalk, the staged debauchery, the religious undertone and the appearance of Lady Gaga (a play-acting royal vision surrounded by her court) I didn’t like the clothes. No matter how much I tried. The show was absorbing and I’ll admit that I found it incredibly entertaining. A pleasing association of “Paris is Burning” and George Michael’s “Too funky”. But what about the clothes? Should they not be more rewarding than the actual show? Is anyone actually paying attention to the clothes or has fashion just become mass entertainment? I would like to treasure memories of the styles and pieces worn on the catwalk instead of wondering about the prodigality of a theatrical experience.

Photo courtesy of Nicola Formichetti