My fashion (non)sense 2

Dear all, alas this is another article that appeared in my column last week..  It is my take on fashion.  I am still bogged down with this and that, more this than that! *sigh!*

For someone so sartorially challenged, an assignment to cover fashion shows can be quite an ordeal.  For a start you've got to understand clothes, if not fashion and not understanding both can be a disaster.  I wear what is comfortable although that could mean a style, if you can call it such, that belongs to yesteryears' wardrobes and should just remain there. Colourwise, I am an autumn kind of person regardless of season.

So you can imagine the kind of challenges that London Fashion Week brings. An invite used to send me into a panic mode of what to wear befitting such a celebrated and much publicised event.  But looking back, I shouldn't have been so worried as apart from the eyes and cameras being trained on to the catwalks, there are many interesting and headline grabbing distractions that no one actually cares what you wear or don't wear.  If the designer is an A list designer such as Zandra Rhodes or Viviene Westwood, then you can be sure that the front row will be filled with the likes of Anna Wintour, Victoria Beckham and of course our very own Datuk Jimmy Choo.  And of course, fashion writers and editors such as Hilary Alexander who can make or break a designer with just her intro.

It was indeed the shoe Guru himself who introduced me to the London Fashion Week where supermodels such as Naomi Campbell and Jodie Kidd would wear his stilletos as they sashayed up and down the catwalk. And tailing him from show to show afforded me a glimpse of life backstage and if I was lucky, I got to be up close and personal with models and even designers. 

As LFW celebrated its 25th year and as it drew to a close last weekend, I began reflecting on the first ever fashion show I attended some ten years ago.

It was quite an eye opener to see fashion and how fashion is translated into statements on the catwalks of one of the world's fashion capitals. There are fashion concepts that remain concepts and certainly not for wearing to your local down the road or even to an evening function.  There are fashion statements that are only good for debates in the newspapers and fashion magazines and still not very wearable even to a fancy dress party.  And wearing these statements and concepts are usually models so gaunt and thin you can see their ribs sticking out.  Instead of gliding up and down the catwalks, they stomp unsmiling and not unlike Russian soldiers marching.

Indeed there was quite a furore some years back when models starved themselves to fit into size 00 and tragically died as a result!

And just when you thought you could see some decent curves and flesh back on the catwalks, a row erupted because some people were very much against size 14 models, the argument given was that size 14 models couldn't walk properly!  

I remember one year when I was allowed backstage and saw stick-ons being creatively stuck on models to cover strategic places so as not to totally offend.  And that got away as a fashion show.

Anyway, over the years, I began to look forward to attending fashion shows not so much because of the clothes on show but because of the side shows provided by fashionistas who either want to be noticed by the press or model wannabes trying to get the attention of agents. Outrageous and creative in their attires, they go from show to show and whet up the audience's appetite before the real show starts. 

Who's that girl?
This season, I wasn't disappointed.  An apparition in a spiky see through shimmering number sashayed to the front row, only stopping to pose for photographers.  The question on everybody's lips was who was the headturner with bright red lipstick and chestnut shoulder length bob that contrasted sharply with the dark healthy beard framing his face.  He took a seat near Michelle Collins of Destiny's Child and basked in the limelight before the show began.  I gathered enough courage and asked him about his curious sense of fashion.
With Andre J at Bernard Chandran's show


"I love to make people happy.  Its about joy and spreading happiness," says Andre J, a New York based party promoter, who had been on the cover of French Vogue and according to one report had worked with Sex and the City stylist, Patricia Field.

This year's event also saw the presence of another celebrity of The Big Brother fame in a shocking pink attire which made her look like a chicken. I knew I shouldn't have worried about my fashion non-sense.

My fashion photography sucks (above) ! But this  (below) is not too bad.  

                                                                                                                                                                                              

But I love this close-up of a model back stage. What do you think Steven?                

                                                                                                                      

                                         Kak Teh's other fashion (non) sense at Eric Way's show some years back

The week that was...

It has been one hell of a week that I don’t know whether I am coming or going. Now I know how a headless chicken feels. There were times when I could sit down and twiddle my thumbs and watch Eastenders and other favorites which now includes American Idol, but I didn’t have time for all that lately and had been ringing up friends asking whether Pauline turned up at the wedding. Weddings in Eastenders tend to have cliffhangers so predictable – either the bride or the groom didn’t turn up or someone does turn up, causing a twist in the plot!

Anyway, in my very own plotless soap opera, it started with a trip somewhere up north to a place I didn’t know exist. It is so far away that I was dreading it but as luck would have it, I was assigned a cameraman that had everyone drooling all over him. It was a three hour drive there and a three hour drive back and by the end of the assignment, we got to know each other quite well. He was also my editor, which helped ‘cos he shot all the visuals and even gave me a lift home.

It was quite an interesting assignment because the place we visited, Corby, has one of the country’s most successful centres for childcare, one which emerged out of the slums. From a town that suffered unemployment from the closure of steelworks there 23 years ago, the community has done very well. The centre not only provides daycare centre and nursery – free of charge – it also provides employment and study opportunities for the parents! It is like having your cake and eating it. Parents leave their children there, then walk down the corridor for their classes on IT or Childcare. With their qualifications, they then become paid workers at the centre. Some had been there since their children were small.

care centre

I hope this centre will be a model for one such centre still in the pipeline in Malaysia and I hope it will become a reality, one that can provide free and quality care for small children to give them a good start in life.

It was during this week that I got to know several Malaysian ladies who are into childcare. They came with Datin Seri Rosmah. During one of the meetings, Tun Dr Siti Hasmah came too and we had lunch of laksa Kedah and keropok lekor. When networking with such ladies, it helps if you have your sunglasses on to deflect the glare from the bling-blings. And also, it could be bad for your waists as most meetings were follwed by delicious and generous helpings of food.

In between other mundane work I joined in the protest marches during the weekends. They were mainly peaceful ones and I am glad for this. The row over the cartoon insults doesn't seem to want to go away. Yes, these are sad and trying times for us. Being at the gathering the first Saturday, I felt the sadness even more. There were speeches, rousing speeches, and there were nasyids, moving ones for the Prophet we love. Last Saturday, I went again. This I did so reluctantly because I felt I had already gone to show my support. But my son wanted to go again and join the march from Trafalgar Square to Hyde Park. My husband was too ill to go with him and I felt I had to accompany him just in case something happened. Marches every else had ended in violence and this is deplorable.

Trafalgar Square last Saturday was packed but very well organised. There were stewards to guide the women to one side, the men to another and those with families and children in the middle. There must have been about 20,000 people but reports just mentioned 10,000. Once again, the streets of London echoed with Allahuakhbar. From behind me, voices of children mingled with those of adults in their rousing and emotional cries. To show that it was meant to be peaceful, the old came in wheelchairs and walking sticks, mothers piggybacked their children, fathers carried them on their shoulders. But police lined the streets and the helicopters hovered above. It was a warm day and by the time we got to Hyde Park, it was asar and after prayers in the park, everyone dispersed. There must have been a hundred coaches outside waiting to bring back people from as far as Scotland.

I sincerely hope the whole thing will stop. We have voiced our anger but at the same time we have to be careful that we don’t bite the bait.

Aah, and then, there’s the London Fashion Week!! Since last year, I stopped sending in applications to attend any fashion shows. But a young up and coming designer from Singapore is now making headlines in the fashion world. He is Ashley Isham and I didn't regret going to his show at all – he has such a flair that does not insult women. I can understand why he is being toasted as the new kid on the block who will go very far. I spoke to Hilary Alexander – the top fashion writer, who was very impressed. It is every designer’s dream to have Hilary at their shows. And she helpfully told me that Ashley has skillfully celebrated 30 years of punk in his
very slick designs! Now, that I didnt know!

ashley with models

But I do know I am losing my touch. Went to the show quite early to secure a good place to take photographs. Was at first disappointed that the seats in one of the tents at the British Natural History Museum were not filled. No familiar faces of celebs there when the music started. I brought my daughter with me as my photograher and prodded her to take pictures as soon as the models came out...in jeans! T Shirts! I was disappointed!! And then of course realised that it was just a rehearsal..and I have wasted the battery!

Anyway, you know when celebrities have arrived when the photographers started flashing their bulbs. I joined in with my small Ixus not knowing who I was snapping – turned out to be Amanda Holden and Lisa B and someone from Eastenders. Other A list celebs went to other shows, I think.

As the show was held on Valentine’s Day, the grand finale had petals of roses falling from the ceiling on to the models, to the tune of Love Is In The Air.

Next stop – Bernard Chandran. It was Bernard’s debut at the LFW and his lovely wife was with him. His collection, needless to say was very impressive – only for those who are tall with thin waists and it helps if you have lots of money as well.

bernard's

In the fashion circuit, if you want to be spotted, and you’ve not entered Britain’s Next Top Model, you’ve got to be brave enough and make yourself visible. There’s the usual Kate Moss lookalikes swanning and sashaying around to get attention. This time, I noticed one wearing a hat so big tilting to one side of her face that I wonder how she enjoyed the shows that she went to. She was there at Ashley's and was stopped a few times by photographers. Then, she turned up at Bernard’s as well – and there was a chorus of groan from those who had spotted her elsewhere too. Her hat, this time was so high that everyone was praying that she wouldn't seat in the front row.

All these happened while I was hoping to recover from the bout of flu that I caught from someone and had conveniently passed on to my husband. So, yesterday, Sunday, I had intended to go to Bluewater and watch my daughter’s performance of traditional Malay dance with the Sri Bulan dance troupe. But I was so dead tired, and Taufiq wanted to play football with a group of Malaysian students and I had no one to go with me. So, I gave it a missed and had a good sleep on the sofa after catching up on American Idol and Eastenders. I’ll post a picture of her perfomance once I get it.

So, that was the week that was. Oh yes, Pauline did turn up at the wedding after going missing for a bit. And yes, there is a cliffhanger. I hope nothing happens this week as I must see what surprise Joe has in store for Pauline. Did I mention that Pat had an affair with Patrick?A lot happened in Eastenders too!

Fashion (non)sense

It was a really bad start. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t even apply but the invitation came anyway. I am one sartorially challenged person and I suspect my presence at these functions was needed to challenge any designer who claims he/she can change and transform a person’s sense or style of dressing. Good luck to them.
So, off I went in a mismatched tudung and attire much to the horror of my children.

First stop, at my shoemaker friend’s shop. He was busy entertaining clients from Hong Kong. The clock was a-ticking and I was a-tapping my badly wornout shoes, (not unlike iJun’s.)

After what seemed like a life time of muah-muah, kiss kiss, bye darling, bye sweetheart, we flagged down a taxi to go to the Roof Garden, where Eric Way, Cherie Blair’s dresser was holding his show. The time was 12.15 and the show would have started and I’d miss the pictures badly needed for my piece. Shoemaker was hungry and seemed oblivious to the miles and miles of traffic along Bayswater Road. I pacified him with the last two bars of Galaxy I had in my bag.

Once there, it was already 1240 and I was sure Eric was already taking his bow while we searched for the entrance. The handphone rang, the shoemaker did a sprint. “Hurry! They are holding up the show for me!” We ran helter skelter, shoemaker, mrs shoemaker, ms shoemaker and me in my badly wornout shoes. Shoemaker knocked on someone’s door – thinking it was the venue, but was rescued by someone who came out searching for the lost party.

Phew! I have had enough of fashion shows. I must be getting on a bit when events like these don’t thrill me anymore.

I remember my first London Fashion Week. It was sheer foolhardy to apply as a photographer. You are put in this dock where it’s a dog eat dog situation. Fashion photographers are one of a kind. You go there and see Xs in masking tape all over the place, reserved areas for the best shots. And if you should be foolish enough to go in front, and they see a strand of your hair straying into their lenses, you’d better wish the ground opens up beneath you. There’d be a chorus of "Hoi!! Get out of the way!"

I was there, clutching my small Canon Ixus, surrounded by mothers of all cameras with grandmothers of all lenses, being elbowed left, right and centre. I remember getting just Naomi Cambell’s heels, Jodie Kidd’s knees and the rest all blurred or blank.

Fashion shows never start on time. It’s the prerogative of designers. The higher they are on the who’s who list, the longer you wait for the show to begin. So, in the meantime you look around to see who comes in what to these events.

The most fascinating creatures to watch are the so called fashion writers. They hardly practice what they preach in their columns. Coordinates do not come any where near in their vocabularies. And my children worry about my dress sense! Watch Hilary Alexander.

Then there’s the model wannabes. Tall lanky teenagers who swan around the place in the hope of getting noticed.

Then finally, the models. In those days, in my days, anyway, models are those with the vital statistics of 36-25-36, right? With bulge and curves in the right place. Nowadays, they advertise at anorexic anonymous for models. Its almost like watching death on a catwalk. There’s no need for hairstyling or proper make-up. The more outrageous you look, the better. Once I went to one show and decided that my teenage daughter could just jump out of bed and would still look good on the catwalk.

I am very proud of our Malaysian models. I was fortunate enough to meet Camelia, our Camelia, at one of these shows. Even as a guest, after a 13 hour flight, she stood out as a real beauty. And there's of course Nasha...what a gem! I've watched her outdoing models on the catwalk here. She can be truly dazzling! (BTW, that's Kak Teh with Nasha.No prize for guessing which one is Nasha.)

And yes, the clothes. You tend to forget the very reason you come to these places when there's so much distractions. They don’t make clothes anymore. They make statements. Wasn’t there once a design which transforms into a table? I went to see one up and coming designer. She used stick-ons to create a pattern on the bodies of the models. And I will never forget Hilary Alexander’s witty remark:Wow! That’s a lovely dress you’re not wearing!

Back to the show at the Roof Garden. Now, this was one classy show at a classy place. Eric used Malaysian batik on some of his very sleek evening numbers, complete with batik shoes and handbags by Lewre.

I went home lamenting my long gone waist. What a waist!
Badly taken pix and bad layout by Kak Teh. Sleek evening numbers by Eric Way & Beautiful shoes by Lewre.