Photo Diary: Paris 2

Paris really needs to do everyone a favour and stop being such a beautiful, inspiring place; otherwise people are just going to keep on taking dodgy, arty farty pictures all over the shop.

Case in point:

Photo Story: Une petite histoire Parisienne

I am getting serious mileage out of last weekend’s trip to Paris – me + camera + very blogworthy place = millions of images. Did you know that it takes just 20 minutes to cross the channel on the Eurostar, and that it goes below the sea, as in, under the seabed? They are just some of the things that I discovered. Here are some more…

…and that’s just the start of it. I’ll give you a pound if you can tell me what that amazing building in the seventh picture is. Not everyone, just the first person.

Outfit Post: Paris part deux

I am a lazy blogger and a busy non-internet human so my outfit posts are sporadic at best. So technically I wore this over a week ago, but it is very very rare I am out and about (in the Tuileries, Paris, bitch) with a camera and a friend to use it. Hence it stays. I love my Nikes. The french didn’t. I always think I love these jeans til I wear them and halfway through the day I realise I like the idea of them. D’oh.

Hmm, do I have a point? Here’s me wearing clothes. In a foreign country. Just out of shot are a load of disapproving looking French people wondering why on earth I look like houndstooth threw up on me. And lace. And denim. Although later that day I went to the most amazing vintage shop in the world and met the nicest man ever – calm down, he runs the place. He didn’t judge me for looking weird. Which was nice of him. The shop? Adom in Bastille. It is quite simply my favourite vintage shop in the whole world – so much so I dragged Julie around the whole of La Marais for about three hours trying to find it only to finally realise it was the wrong district. Ooops. Hey, it’s not my fault all those pretty Parisian streets look the same. I found the best boots ever but alas was too poor to buy them, so I am currently negotiating with nice man (speaking francais over the phone is DIFFICIL) to send them to me. Cross your fingers for me.

Oh, and I need to get some clothes that are not American Apparel. Literally 70% of my wardrobe is Apparel. I don’t know how I feel about that.

Jacket, Thrifted; Shirt, Tshirt worn over, Jeans, all American Apparel; Nikes, Nike

 

Meet your New God: Helmut Newton

*If you like unbiased reporting, turn away now. I am about to go mega-enthusiastic on all y’all*

Helmut Newton

Last weekend, I went to Paris, and saw the Helmut Newton retrospective in the Grand Palais. It is a stunning building, fitting for such an incredible show. A good exhibition not only makes you oooh and aaaaah at the pretty pictures, it challenges how you think and this one left my head spinning. I got that feeling of awe you get when you read an amazing book and it messes with how you see things. Hyperbole? Only probably. Helmut’s work is at once elegant, refined, honest, brash, sexy and delicate. He elicits all kinds of emotions in his imagery – sometimes they are playful, sometimes they are full of humour, other times they are just the epitomy of chic and dripping with beauty. He didn’t retouch, instead he said “he photographed what he saw”.  He never took two photos when he could take one, which is a lesson all of us in the digital age could learn.

Helmut Newton

Oh, did I mention Helmut Newton was a prolific photographer of nudes? Yea, he’s really famous for taking pictures of naked ladies. However, one of the things that struck me throughout the exhibition was how normal the nudes seemed, like flesh was just another outfit. They were purposeful, not purely titillating. Provocative, erotic, certainly, but not skeezy. Each image was an investigation, a comment. The male gaze is omnipresent in most art, and it is really hard to discuss the female form without assuming overt sexualisation, and certainly in his work it is sexualised. But I don’t know, it’s almost as if the sexualisation is a consequence rather than the motive. There is something empowering about the images. They are images of female nudity that don’t make other females isolated. He photographed all kinds of women, from supermodels to Californian policewomen and lots of shapes and sizes in between. They are all strong poses, confrontational almost. Sometimes fashion poses just with no clothes on. It seems that for Newton, nude and fashion photography are interchangeable and the two inform each other.

Helmut Newton

He clearly loved women, and not in a lairy, gross way, but genuinely loved female beauty and the female form. Is it weird that I’m talking about naked lady photos? Possibly, but this exhibition provoked me to think about a subject I would normally totally shy away from. While I accept that fashion boob is everywhere – just have a look at Tumblr – I never really consider it, or the impact it can have on self image, which is a not particularly feminist thing to do. I think what Newton’s work did was encourage me to be more comfortable with myself, because the images were not vulnerable, nor did they seem like they were to purely to entertain men – they were sexy, but in an empowered way. It was all very French. They seem a lot more comfortable with themselves than us. And really really chic. I reckon the two must go together somehow.

Helmut Newton’s impressive Polaroids

Enough about birds in the buff though, let’s talk about his fashion imagery. It continues to influence what we do today. Helmut Newton was a master of his craft. The exhibition incorporated a documentary by his wife June - Helmut by June (2007) . It was so inspiring to see him work. As with all masters, he was a complete perfectionist. But he also had a very natural and beautiful way of shooting. He had a wonderful awareness of what he was doing at all times. One of the quotes on the walls of the Grand Palais, taken from Helmut by June was “a good fashion photograph must resemble anything but a fashion photograph. A portrait, a souvenir, a paparazzi photograph”. This is an inspiring approach to FASHUN. Instead of making facsimile’s of fashion imagery, create a new story.

Helmut Newton

Helmut Newton

So, go to Paris and see this exhibition. It is so beautiful it will make you want to cry and will fill you full of joy so much so you will feel it bursting in your throat and then you will come out of it and be standing on the steps of the Grand Palais and you might actually burst because it is one of the most beautiful places ever.

*End of gushing*

Helmut Newton

This image basically describes what happened to us the entire time we were in Paris – never wear colour there. Ever. Even a bit.

Outfit Post: Paris 1

Last weekend I went to Paris. And ate my body weight in cheese and drank red wine like a red wine drinking fish. Needless to say it was immense.

Here’s what I wore on the Saturday. The Parisians didn’t get it at all, they kept staring at me like I was a crazy person. They really really don’t understand colour, or pattern. Or they probably understand it, but think it’s ridiculous. Note to self: next time, wear black. On it’s own. Maybe with a hint of grey. But no colour, no pattern. You will get funny looks. Oops.

Hat & sunglasses, H&M; Skirt & Sweater, American Apparel; Shoes, Office; Bag, Topshop; Jacket & denim shirt, thrifted