Sunday, November 29, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
a load of old bobbins
This weekend I went to an exhibition in Lille called "sur-le-fil: deviance et textiles." I would like to share it with you because it brightened my day and lifted my spirits in a way that only the artistic manifestations of obscure passions can. I hope it will do the same for you.
I love being reminded of the diversity of eccentricities that exist in the world. I want to believe that there will always be things that can surprise me and people who devote their lives to crafting strange and fantastical things from various textile materials reassure me that this is indeed possible.
A few favourites...
Knitter of superhero costumes Mark Newport
Crocheting sweaters for the amelioration of taxidermied animals Elaine Bradford
"Using a sewing needle instead of a hypodermic needle," reformed drug addict Ray Materson creates startlingly intense and photo realistic embroidery patches
Follow your dreams and don't let anyone tell you you're ridiculous - the world is a happier place that way.
Monday, November 9, 2009
l'acclimatisation
It's now November.
The honeymoon phase of my life in France is at a close!
Don't get me wrong - I am still enjoying my life here immensely.
With my 12 hour a week job that essentially requires me to chat with enthusiastic french students about whatever I want - it's hard to find much to complain about.
All I'm getting at is that my relationship with this country is past the lovey-dovey-can't-keep-my-hands-off-you-everything-about-you-is-perfect phase and I'm beginning to see things as they are...
Again - still in love and very committed.
It's just that I've begun to notice that France has a tendency to leave it's dirty socks on the floor and can't seem to remember to put the toilet seat down.
All those things that once seemed so magical and perfect are becoming more like everyday fare...
I'll talk about fashion.
When I arrived here, I was utterly blind-sided by the fact that ten year olds wear leather coats and dress pants.
It's true - all children wear mini versions of grown-up outfits in a similarly sombre colour pallette.
The result of this uniformity is to give the French the elegance of a well choreographed precision performance group as they wind their way down the rue going about their daily errands.
En masse - they look sleek.
However, once the spectacle becomes habitual and your jaw has finished dropping - you realise that the effect does not hold at the level of the individual.
Just as in Canada - you discover that some people have good taste and some people do not.
Clothes suffer from many of the same design mishaps - too much unnecessary embellishment, shapelessness, being a poor interpretation of runway fashion from four+ seasons ago, etc...
It makes sense really.
The idea that over the centuries the French had self-selected "chicness" as a genetic trait (while that would make a fantastic study) seems highly improbable.
But I will say this: the average french person has more respect for quality garments, shoes, bags - and for clothing being an important part of the way you present yourself - than one has back where I come from.
You see this respect in practice on the streets everyday; I feel conspicuous if I go more than a week without polishing my boots, for example.
And you'll find no workout wear (or pyjamas?!?) in the grocery store.
So while the french may not exhibit genetic fashion superiority, the implicit cultural acknowledgement that one dresses nicely out of respect for being a part of civilized society is still endlessly refreshing for me.
I've got fashion on the brain having just returned from a four day holiday in... Milan!
As a twenty-something aspiring to be a badass fashionista, Milan was to me what Disneyland is to a seven-year-old aspiring to be a fairy princess: the happiest place on earth.
I could have spent the rest of my life (window) shopping on the streets making up the infamous Quadrilatero d'Oro.
On top of that, I found the "less upscale" shopping districts to be full of charming independent boutiques and home decor stores chalk-full of Italian designed home furnishings.
I simply could not stop salivating.
The restaurants, bars and cafes were another wonder.
Not only for the incredible food (I ate life-changing pizza, chestnut risotto, cappuccinos, hot chocolate, gelato...) but because even the most upscale have very open-concept patio-style dining spaces which makes for the best people watching scenario you could imagine.
And you do want to watch the people...
Middle aged women hidden beneath face-envelopping fur collars, gigantic Prada shades and soft yet suspiciously unmoving coifs on the arms of impeccably tailored husbands rocking a magenta man-pashmina and making it look manlier than Conan the Barbarian's fur singlet.
...sigh...
As my personal religion consits of food and fashion, I return from Milan with a sense of spiritual renewal, having just made a pilgrimmage to fashion Mecca.
Pictures will do justice better than my words:
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