More memories from London Fashion Week Fall 2012. As we all know, the devil is in the detail. And they were some devilishly good details. Sorry, that was really poor, even by my standards. The details, by contrast, are of a very high standard. And again, yellow and red seem to be the pervading LFW AW12 street style colours of choice. Go figure.
Fashion Week seems like an age ago, and I am very bold that I’m only getting around to this post now. I posted about the fasharazzi, and how odd the circus at Somerset House is, but in fact I am an awful hypocrite because I was there, papping away myself. As I noted at fashion week in September, I have a tendency to crop people’s heads when I shoot street style. I am not entirely sure why I do this, perhaps it is a reaction to the blatant showing off that some people carry on with, but it is meant with no malice or conscious thought. I guess I just like the anonymous aesthetic.
Either way, I unconsciously shot a colour story – red and yellow were the two key colours that caught my eye. The message? This summer it’s all about hyper-bright block colour? I’m not actually sure, but this is what the kids in London were wearing at Fashion Week Fall 2012…
Yes I know technically this is closer to green, but close enough. Plus, she’s wearing Acne shoes.
This Fashion Week I got papped loads, and it sort of unnerved me. The fact that I do outfit posts on this blog means that I think I have some sense of style, but by the same token, I have always seen myself as the person behind the camera. Also, it is meaningless because everyone got papped loads, DSLRs were the new hot necklace, or so it seemed. It got me thinking…
The fashion paparazzi are a new breed of bloggers and photographers (from hereon in referred to simply as bloggers) that are now part and parcel of the circus that is Fashion Week. They document street style, which feeds back into the fashion machine and informs magazines and media as well as designers and trend forecasting companies, and indirectly affects the way fashion progresses as much as it records fashion the way it is now.
Papping the paps rather than the clothes at fashion week…
This phenomenon did not exist even just a few years ago. And I suppose, in one way it makes sense; fashion week is a hub of stylish people, so of course any blogger with any sense within a commutable distance is going to go and try get some good images for their blog. I know I did. But at what point does the sublime become ridiculous? At what point does the search for an authentic picture become a hoard of buzzy bees with DSLRs creating nothing but internet noise and generally being annoying? When does the fasharazzi become plain old paparazzi?
Paps & vloggers
I honestly don’t know the answer to this question. I can’t really talk either, as I was there, with my DSLR, looking at people and papping the ones I liked. But you sort of have to go and see for yourself to get a feel for the sheer volume of cameras – walking into Somerset House can be so overwhelming, there are literally hundreds of fashionably dressed people sticking cameras in your face, it feels like walking the gauntlet to get to the registration office. And like a mexican wave, as soon as one paps you, another five appear from nowhere and start doing the same. Did they mistake me for someone famous? Did they not know and snap in case I am famous? Or were they just following the crowd, copying others around them? I felt silly and uncomfortable, though I usually obliged because I also think that they aren’t really doing anything wrong – they’re just like me, into fashion and doing they thang on the internet, right?
Well…I dunno. I got the impression there can be a serious lack of editing skills – shoot first, decide whether I like it later – which is a weak way of shooting, and more like papping in my book. But I guess all the blame can’t rest on the bloggers, there was more than enough willing fodder. I got the impression from some people I saw and others I spoke to that the sole reason they got dressed that morning was to turn up on as many blogspots as they possibly could, like they were waiting to be discovered, though even they weren’t sure what they were being discovered for. Which is disingenuous, turning the notion of street style into a charade, where the pappers and the papped are egging each other on, creating images that have less and less to do with authenticity and actual street style. It’s the kind of pretension that makes people hate fashion, and it annoys me because generally speaking the authentic people and the good bloggers are intelligent, lovely and unpretentious, it demeans the good work they do.
This image is the only one I have actually seen – for all the cameras, where do the images go?!
I strongly believe in street style as a valid form of fashion photography and documentary – it records our culture and how we see ourselves. On the other hand, I strongly disagree with the unintended consequence of misguided people thinking they are mini celebrities and prancing around Somerset House with no other motive than getting papped and adding nothing to the fashion conversation. If you are there with a big camera and have nothing to say, you are a tourist. Or a chancer. Simple as.
I think my main problem is that I see so many blogs run by people who claim to want to be fashion journos, and they don’t know the difference between a rolled hem and a french seam, who can’t spot a brogue from a loafer. It’s the reduction of fashion to a mindless, “ooh-look-at-the-pretty-thing” that really gets me in this fashion paparazzi debate. It infuriating seeing people wanting to be the next Tommy Ton, or Scott, or Garance, without putting the time in to actually study what they claim to be so passionate about. It’s the people who don’t know their from there, gushing on about FASHUN, and not stopping for two seconds to form a new idea, a new thought, or to really draw any conclusions from the work that designers put so much effort into producing. It makes a mockery of the system, it debases it, creating a culture that is no better than crass reality tv shows that are built on mediochre wannabes*.
There were about 4 more photographers to my left here
I know I am being somewhat (very) hypocritical here. Who am I to say that people can’t go and participate? But I feel like it is a conversation that needs to be had. Of course bloggers have a very valid place, and as a blogger, I know that it can help to promote a community within fashion and give women a forum for understanding fashion and self-identity at a more grass-roots level, which is appealing and reassuring**. Blogs are community, and are a real force in fashion media today. I suppose my problem is at what point do all the photographers just become like mainstream paparazzi, a nuisance, too much? Or do I just need to chill the hell out? Perhaps I need to take my own advice and realise that there are good bloggers and bad bloggers and they are all entitled to do their thing, and I should just zone the bad ones out. And to never, ever go to Fashion Week with a hangover.
I love this guy, he’s the cutest – saw him everywhere!
*I’m sure reality tv stars are lovely people if you meet them, but lots of people are lovely and have more talent and qualifications to create good tv.
**I did my university thesis on this. And I got a first in it. So trust me, I am both pro-blogger, and know what I am talking about.
Fashion week seems like a very very long time ago – even though the last two months have flown in. I like that fashion week was the first thing I did when I moved here. It’s always going to be my moving anniversary, or something. There is a poignant thought in there somewhere but let’s save the vom-inducing saccharine bleugh and look at some well dressed people, shall we?
x
even the babies are blogworthy in Somerset House….
Lads wear heels too, OK?
Boys, boys, boys. I love boys. Actually, no, I love men. Men wearing amazing clothes. Menswear. I heart menswear. Nothing beats a hottie with a good outfit. I had a conversation last Saturday about the store Albam, a menswear label I hold in very high regard. Think heritage, and luxe meets modern and minimal with lashings of japanese denim and wool jumpers with leather elbow patches. Men, this stuff to women is a little bit like having a cute dog – it makes us swoon. Only you don’t have to bring your good jacket for walks or pick up its poop.
This post is not actually a review of Albam, or even indeed an intentional plug. My point is that men’s style interests me greatly. Indeed at Fashion Week I think I was probably more taken with the guys than the girls. What I love about men’s fashion is the creativity that is possible within very tight constraints. Within womenswear there is more daring in terms of garment shape, and more variation in general – a women has an arsenal of different garments and garment shapes (think how many different shapes of skirts there are – now think of the different hemlines….). In menswear, by contrast, we still abide by very traditional attire rules. Despite the total revolution in women’s dress, men’s dress has changed very little over the past 100 years. True, our attitude is very different, but the pieces themselves are quite archaic. This is why it is so interesting. How can you keep a simple wardrobe of pants, shirts, tshirts, and polos fresh? With a lot of talent is how. With a sharp eye for detail and even sharper scissors for tailoring… Sorry, that was poor. I am above that. Menswear is above that.
I guess part of the reason I am so interested in menswear is how it is so centred on fit and quality. I feel these are two things womenswear in the maninstream has forgotten about. Even the average man understands that he must wear his clothes, not the other way around. This means that if it doesn’t fit his body, he will not buy the amazing shoes/dress/jeans – there is no such thing as “if I don’t eat for a week I’ll totally fit into this”. Men’s inherent understanding of good fit is critical to good style.
Lesson #1: Good fit = Good Style. Work with your body, you will always look your best when you wear clothes. Don’t let them wear you. Don’t pretend they fit when they don’t. I don’t necessarily mean dress size here, I am talking about getting a shape that fits your hips, waist and bust, no matter what the numbers are.
Similarly, guys just don’t buy crappy quality. Their aversion to shopping means they buy things to last. The next time you are binging in Penneys/Primark, go to the men’s section and feel the fabrics. Look at the label if you can’t tell the difference by touch. Men’s clothes in general are made with better fabric, and it shows. The hardware (zips, buttons, etc) are also generally better, and attached more firmly. We should follow suit.
Lesson #2: Quality shows. Forget how much of a bargain it is, a rubbish fabric will wash badly, and lose shape. Not such a hot look after a few washes. There are good fabrics on the highstreet, you just have to be clever about how you shop.
As much as my favourite menswear is the looking-like-you’re-not-even-trying version, I love a man who’s not afraid to dress UP. I have noticed so many guys in London wearing heels on their daily business. There are some really exciting things happening within menswear at the moment, and not all of them are that design-nerd heritage modern minimal thing. You know when I said not much had changed in the past century? Well, I think there is a sea change on the way, where the mainstream is becoming more accepting of daring men’s looks – the kind club kids have been championing since way back when. I suppose it is very tied into gender issues, so this acceptance is a positive not just for fashion but for society in general, and it will be interesting to see what men’s fashion pages look like ten years from now.
Lesson #3 Challenge everything. It helps when your bestie is as outrageous as you, but wear what you like. There are loads of different styles for a reason. We live in times where we can kind of do what we want, we should embrace that. Just make sure you are aware of what you are putting together, there is a fine line between avant garde and total carcrash.
Lads love trainers. I don’t really like them personally, but I appreciate a man with a good pair of kicks. I guess they are the men’s equivalent of Louboutins?
Lesson #4. Footwear is everything.
All images (c) Jane Kenny, 2011
So I love menswear. And at Fashion Week there was lots of it about. I thought it was high time I shared it with you. Also, as an aside, I apologise for the lack of regular posts in the past couple of weeks, I have no internet in my house (will hopefully be back up and running soon), and I have been working like a maniac, so I am having somewhat of a real-life-interfering-with-my-internet-output moment. Soz bbz. xxx
*WARNING: This post contains thoughts and social opinions*
London Fashion Week packed up and left town on Wednesday, with menswear taking the closing honours. I am really glad I made the push to make it over here in time to absorb some of madness that is fashion week – it’s sort of a circus mixed with a zoo. What really struck me was the prevalence of low budget DSLR’s (mine included) and girls and boys like me looking to catch a candid fashion moment, as well as capture the characters hanging out in Somerset House. I got talking to a few people (the fash pack are deceptively friendly) and one older Turkish man remarked that the normal people floating about seemed more important than the models, and in some ways I think I agree with him. For my part, anyway, I am as interested in how we the people interpret fashion and arrange it according to our budget and hip measurements as I am in glossy ads.
That said, I can’t ignore the latent narcissism and pure vanity of some of the people hanging out at Fashion Week HQ – there was certainly an element of “take my picture”, “notice me”, “look how beautiful I am, even though I’m not actually a model”. Some straight ups were a little too posed, some vacant stares a little too rehearsed. But the overwhelming majority of people I encountered and observed seemed to be genuine fans of fashion who were there to observe, and if people took their picture, fine, but that was not the overriding purpose of the exercise. It would be a bit glib of me to pretend like I’m not flattered if someone thinks I’m stylish – after all that is the industry I am in – but my focus has always been to create rather than take to the other side of the lens. Anyone with a passing interest in fashion will understand that street style photography has become a massive part of how fashion is now presented in the media, and dismissing it as nothing more than vanity is really missing the point of fashion imagery.
So I guess I’m being a hypocrite and saying that if you get dressed with the sole intention of having your picture taken, you’re an idiot, but if you have your photo taken because you are inherently stylish that’s fine? Yea, I think that’s basically what I’m saying.
Fashion has always had roots in exhibitionism, and I suppose the prevalence of bloggers now makes it easier to point the finger and call people up on it. Possibly we are uncomfortable with the notion of someone wanting that sort of validation; however, anyone who has ever dressed up to impress a boy or a girl or has dressed to fit in with a group is just as guilty of seeking validation through their outfit. And we all have to admire someone who is unashamedly proud of the way they put themselves together – that confidence and brazenness is what fuels the creative industries. Imagine Lady Gaga if she was just chill about things. We need exhibitionists in our midst, a focal point, a benchmark.
I have included some of my favourite shots from Somerset House over the two days that I was there. They have a theme that became apparent as I looked back on them – they are headless. In many of my shots, almost unconsciously, I found myself drawn to creating anonymity by cropping the figure – to create an image that is just about the clothes. Given my feelings on the narcissistic elements of the place, perhaps this was my psyche’s response – stripping them of their 30 seconds.
Burberry Invite SS12
Ana (ms Ripped Knees) went and sat opposite Kanye and right behind Anna Wintour (you should have heard the din as she arrived). I stood outside and had a little CREEP. Clearly I wanted to be inside, but it was still interesting to see how a massive luxury brand put on their show. I ended up standing beside a security guard who had a radio link to the production team so I could hear all the frantic last minute instructions being barked as they rushed and shoved people into their seats in order to start the show as close to the time it was supposed to as possible (the term fashionably late doesn’t come from nowhere, you know).
"Hey Anna, Anna, over here Anna"
She wasn't even on the phone. Phoney reality, if you will........Tommy Ton, Street Peeper & other uber bloggers....
I somehow managed to land myself right in the front of the blogger barrier so when the beautiful people were pouring out I had the best spot to pap them. Unfortunately I have no idea who anyone famous is, so I based my shots on how good their outfits were….Soz Sienna, I didn’t even notice you, until everyone else started running after you… 5’8 good looking glossy blondes are frighteningly common around these parts.
Disgracefully, I still havn’t seen the collection properly apart from Ana’s shots from the show – once I get sorted with a job and flat I can focus on the important things in life again.
xx
Finally made it to Somerset House today…I’m still reeling from the FASHUN of it all…..Here’s a bit of what I saw.
I am literally so overwhelmed, in a good way though. I knew there was this level of fashion, but I had NO IDEA. Somerset House really is a circus, I have never seen so many cameras in the one place, everyone snapping furiously. I was so shocked that they were taking pics of ME too, I think they must have mistook me for someone who might have been somebody….mwahahahahahhaha!
I was really glad of good company in the form of Ripped Knees. Although the crowd was remarkably friendly, it was great to have a real life pal and fellow fashion enthusiast/nerd to knock about with.
Ripped Knees (I call her Ana)
Look! It's ADR! (Her friends call her Anna too!)
I went to outside Burberry (Ana had a ticket, I did not, sigh), and nearly got run over by Corine’s car. She was gawking at us as we were at her, WIN! I want to say words and words, and trust me, I will, but for now, let’s just look at lovely pictures of kick ass amazing style. I wish every day was fashion week!!!
Latecomers legging it to the Burberry Show
xxxx
