I’ve just had a look at my media housing temple thing , and it turns out a few hundred people are logging on everyday. Good news? No.
Would you all please stop it until I’ve caught up with my work in the real world.
When I do, am gonna post about , moving to E5/leaving myself, fashion ‘moth to a flame’ styling : eg. girls with fat bellys being compelled to wear midriff revealing tracksuits and rally driving at funerals in bespoke tailoring.
All later today, honest.
But got this other stuff to do and its doing me schedge* in. Nice to have the work and that, but still.
Bear with eh? Here’s some exclusive S&E Modern Toss to be getting on with.
Earlham Street Covent Garden, London from April 22nd for three weeks.
I’m a big fan of the house of Gucci, and used make pilgrimages to the New Bond Street shop back when it was a little bit stuffy and the preserve of a few aging Sloane Rangers. We used to call the crescent of loafers laid out on a sort of round plinth the Gucci carousel. Gucci couldn’t be further from that dusty licensing purgatory now.
Got invited to review the pop up Gucci icon trainer shop on Wednesday. Love the broad red and navy heritage stripe the surrounds the shop. The brilliant clean white space is being used to showcase the line of trainers (or sneakers as the Americans and Italians call them), designed in conjunction with famous producer of cover versions and DJ, Mark Ronson.
Teenage kicks, so hard to beat (or afford)
Does wearing a lot of trainers in the past qualify you to design them? Frida Giannini was in on the collaboration to keep an eye. This project is aimed linking Gucci with a younger market, hence all the digital and on line capers that the kids just cant get enough of. The Gucci lifestyle ap’ has had half million downloads so far, and the special ‘Ronson’ model is only purchasable for those who have the ap’.
This foray into young style perhaps heralds a new thrust for Gucci perhaps. The trainers start at £420, and go to £600-ish, so are what you might call ‘collectors’ pieces. Not sure how many of ‘the young’ wanna drop that sort of wedge on trainers by a luxury house, but what do I know about such things? I think collecting trainers full stop is quite naff really. Liking trainers is a different story. These trainers are in lively, stylish colour ways and what might be called ‘fun’. I’ve been trying to find a link to “Flossin’ In My Gucci’s” by Ward 23 as reference, but think they might be operating right under the radar.
Talking of flossing, I inadvertently ended coming back for the evening bash thrown by Gucc’, Ronson, and Dazed & Confused. I shot some footage, spoke to the very striking Anna Laub of Prism eyewear (click)about Gucci and her glasses and then went home.
Laub: An optical elusion.
Far too loud, bright and hectic for me frankly, and really wonder if Simon Le Bon and Nick Rhodes are into that sort of thing. I also wonder how they help the ‘down with the kids’ quotient? They toddled off to Ronnie Scotts afterwards for all manner of performances and revelry no doubt.
Avid sneaker collectors: The Adams Family
I just went home and thought about what I had seen.
Title relates not only to an infamous fashion story not to be told at this point, but to the arrival of:
RALPH LAUREN’S NEW SHOP IN PARIS & THE RAKE FASHION SHOOT
Terrace chic: Ralph’s new place in Paris.
Was deployed to Paris this week to style The Rake’s Ralph Lauren shoot. Ralph opened his new shop/palace on Tuesday in a renovated 17th century ‘hôtel particulier’ on Boulevard St Germain. The shoot was mainly located in this splendid town house, with sweeping stairs and enormous windows, authentic mouldings, parquet flooring, and an American style restaurant cunningly named Ralph’s.
Discovered was shooting cheek by jowl (well, semi) with US Vogue, making my opposite number on the shoot the massive fashion presésence André Leon Tally. You should see him case the gaff. Like a camp Darth Vadar sans helmet he stalks, with an entourage trailing out behind him. Got turfed from the rococo chamber we initially set up in ’cause his lot wanted it, and when returned an hour later to retrieve my de-fluffer, the full crew were now entrenched. “You-can’t-go-in-there, you-cant-go-in there!” trilled the bevy of fashion carers. Breezing past them to enter US fash’ space, pointing out they’re not actually the CIA or the presidential bodyguard. André was reclining pertly on a massive chez lounge with a blanket thrown over him while his team fussed and twitched to his every gesticulation. “You comfy on there André?” I asked to the dismay of the team. “Ve-ry comfort-able thenk you.” Andre beamed back. I think we shared a ve-ry fashion moment.
Leather tassle poncho, Vadar’s own.
The beginning of spring for me was momentous for other fashion reasons. I lost my ‘real bow tie virginity’ (with a man). Never managed to ‘pull one off’ live in front of a photographic team before, but somehow went into a knot-trance, positioned firmly behind my George: Michael/Hamilton/Clooney-a-like model, Francois. He’s is an actor by trade, so probably used to getting rumped during the course of a working day. He commanded a certain presence in the rakish role. His female counterpart far less so, giving the oars festooning Ralph’s collegiate room a run for their money on a wooden quotient.
Stubbs’ first hand tied bow in shoot scenario. The relief was tangible.
More style poignancy still when Monsieur Lauren himself slipped by to see how we were going. Small but perfectly turned out in little cowboy boots, he was charming. It must be horrid being the head of such organisations, as you end up surrounded by hoards of dribbling sycophants. Not wishing to join the dribblers, I asked Ralph’s opinion on whether one should fasten a dinner jacket when cummerbund was in place, as was shooting such an outfit at that moment. He casually tweaked the open ensemble saying “you got it down pretty cool”. Thanks Capo, always good to know.
‘Objection!’, shaving overruled.
Other locations for the shoot included the bar at hotel Le Meurice bar and some Parisian’s plush apartment. This plateau of luxury surroundings was maintained all week, as Ralph’s lot had vigorously pushed the bateau out, spoiling me rotten with lodgings in the Hôtel Plazza Athénée, (also patronised by pop group Tokyo Hotel, hence mob of teenager girls). A delightfully grandiose experience put a whole new slant on the term ‘work’. A man in a white tux came to my room on the second night and filleted my sole for me, and when the clothes were delivered from the van, they came on a very chic porter’s rail. The week took on a certain glamorous ‘pas de deux’ from my point of view.
He bloody knew it: Self catering would have suited her much better.
The shoot finished, I found myself with two hours to kill and a massive Cohiba that was one of the un-used props. I plotted outside the Hôtel Plazza Athénée with the very rich old men and their cigars, trying to blend in. Four glasses of Sancerre and a pile of Cuban ash later and I had blended so much I nearly missed the last Eurostar out of France. Aerospace above Europe was sealed off by Icelandic ash, and the train was packed to capacity. The swollen numbers caused a sandwich dearth, prompting near riots in first class. Angry Brits vented spleen in a most undignified manner at the staff. Sans sandwich, I gratefully recalled my week of sumptuous treatment, and shuddered at what A.L.T’s Vogue firm would have made of this catering catastrophe. Bread rolls were given out, but I doubt Vogue do improv’ rations, or travel with a their own supply of ‘pate coup de gras’ to go with said pain.
Je ne regrette rien, (except perhaps that tattoo I got done in Blackpool on a stag do).
Got the title off a mate of my sister Julie. (Click to discover). Ta for that one Ju, and you Cat.
Not Addison Lee’s finest hour.
Shooting on location yesterday morning. Photographer: Jake Walters. Call time for the first model and my assistant Georgie: 4.45 am. W9 by 5.30am. Next two models 6pm at Old Street Esso garage to all make Camber Sands for 8am. I had planned the weather to the last minute. Really I had.
I deployed the Thomas Crown Affair heist activation system with a fashion slant. All worked like digital clockwork. Three rag tag models slept in Steve’s van as we drove the Kent towards the sunrise.
It was quite tough. Instinct urged me to push an outfit or two beyond brief. It wasnt the occasion for pushing. Walters was right. Again. Dagnabbit. I aligned back to my original plan. That is why there is no video of the shoot, because it was ‘full on’ styling all day. Also lost my Dunhill fountain pen and iron and ironing board. Just don’t know what to say about those situations right now.
We’re rather pleased with the shoot luckily. I do hope The Rake like it too.
For the full story buy July’s issue of The Rake, yeah?