Monday, 14 January 2013

Oh.. Fashion. I'll be in fashion, when I'm done.

My latest piece for To Be Continued.

As a man who knows little of haute couture… A term originating from the French, meaning: "high sewing". That is the funny thing about language – to the English language 'haute couture' sounds expensive, glamorous, other-wordly; whereas the term 'high sewing' to me conjures up an image of a woman called Pam knitting argyle mittens on a ladder, or else a chap called Keith frantically botching a home-made oven glove for his Aunt Eileen whilst having a spliff…

I digress… Again, as a man who knows little of haute couture, I have to admit I find it admirable I can so digest an exhibition such as this (or my earlier issue on the V&A Ballgowns) when actually I know nothing betwixt a flounce and a godet.

"Review, don't critique" I long remember. After all, what is a critic but one voice believing themselves to be an arbiter of taste, and who can truly claim to be an authority on that? Yes, my taste is impeccable surely (my taste in friends proves that), but it is not a benchmark by which others should adhere, or feel they must follow. In life, as in everything, “make it your own”.

For example, I love coffee, one lump or poo, but even if I was the biggest euromillions winner ever I’d not pay £30 a cup for one made using beans digested and then picked from the dung of elephants. (True: called ‘Black Ivory’ and produced at £685 per kilo).

Anyway… here is my Valentino piece. :-)