Unconventional Style Icons: Glenn Gould

 

About two years ago I wrote a post titled "Unknown Style Icons: Natacha Rambova", about the eccentric 1920's costume designer and wife of Rudolph Valentino. I really intended to do a whole series of posts on some of my personal style icons who are generally not identified as so by the mainstream media. However, a random reader wrote me an appalled e-mail telling me sarcastically that "he was very glad I had at long last discovered Rambova but that she was by no means unknown and I should research more before talking without having a clue". That made me feel like such a loser I stopped altogether the unknown style icons series. But, hang it, after two years I've finally gotten over it (sensitive, me?) and decided to start it again, only this time I'll call it "Unconventional Style Icons" so as to not attract more hate mail calling me an ignorant idiot. 

Anyway, after Natacha Rambova I give you Glenn Gould.

Admittedly, Mr. Gould's style is the least important thing about him. You are looking at one of the biggest musical geniuses of last century. I know the word "genius" is thrown around way too frivolously these days, but in this case it applies. Glenn, who was born in Toronto in 1932, could read music before he could read words. As a baby he would play with the family piano, not by randomly hitting the keys but rather by pressing one key at a time and carefully listening to each sound and its evolution. By the time he was 13 he gave his first concert and at 25 he embarked on a tour of the Soviet Union. He had his very own views on music and believed a performer should be - rather than just a machine playing someone else's compositions - a true interpreter, bringing a new sound to an already known score. Also, besides a genius, he was a hopeless eccentric. 

Before he sat down to play the piano (on his very low wooden chair, a present from his father which he carried to all his performances), Glenn had to make sure the temperature in the room was extremely warm (he was constantly cold).While playing, he invariably hummed to the music, which gave sound technicians many a headache during recording sessions. He disliked being touched; in fact, he didn't much enjoy human company in general and felt better around animals.All these quirks obviously shaped his "nutty genius" style, which to be honest attains levels of cool otherwise only reached by the Japanese.

I must also mention Mr. Gould had the good looks of a young Ethan Hawke, which also helped (why hasn't anyone made a movie about his life starring Ethan yet by the way?)

I guess he didn't give much importance to the way he looked, and that's exactly what made Glenn so irresistibly cool: his hair was seldom combed and always too long, his suits were mismatched, his trousers were too wide, his shirt rarely tucked in and more often than not unpressed.

Because he always felt cold, he used to wear heavy woolen fabrics, big coats, thick sweaters, scarves, knitted mittens and leather gloves (sometimes one on top of the other. Has Junya Watanabe drawn inspiration from the photo above yet?). All these details added up to create a unique style which in my opinion is truly unique and inspirational.What do you think?

Having steadily studied classical music from the age of 2 to 18, I was familiar with Glenn Gould before I was familiar with Michael Jackson. I know both his music and his persona are not everyone's cup of tea and some people think he is just "too much"; but I'm a fan. Besides admiring his brilliantly creative intrpretations, I've always been partial to him partly tanks to his ambivalent feelings towards people and the fact that he had even more aversion to cold than I do. Over the years he has become one of my icons, and I'm not just talking about style. Even though he had tons of it.

PS: If you would like to know more about this genius, here is a really interesting documentary featuring lots of original footage of Glenn and his inimitable "allure".

Backstage at Beijing's Dior Homme Show

On April 26, Dior Homme held its first-ever fashion show outside of Paris, and the spot chosen by Kris Van Assche for this one-off event was Beijing’s Central Academy of Fine Arts museum. The organic, airy building with curved walls hosted 600 guests, including a long list of Chinese celebrities (from media mogul Hung Huang to “China’s number-one heartthrob” actor Huang Xiaoming) sporting a studied air of effortless elegance. “After having staged some events in Shanghai, Beijing seemed like the logical next step”, Van Assche said. “I love the momentum of China, and how people in this city pay a lot of attention to the way they look.”

 

The show was a reprisal of Dior Homme’s A/W13 show which debuted last January in Paris. Half of the impeccably groomed models were cast locally and three new looks (which according to the designer will only be available in China) were added to the show. Drawing inspiration from 1997’s film Gattaca, Van Assche created a rigorous collection with a futuristic edge (“clothes for tomorrow”) leaning on technical fabrics and functional details like safety belts and jackets equipped with zips instead of buttons. “I have been very inspired by sport and the notion of a healthy mind in a healthy body lately, that’s why I took Gattaca as the starting point for the collection. From there I worked to achieve an athletic silhouette, lean yet virile, following the masculine anatomy in the cut of the clothes.”

 

In their austere, waist-belted black suits and tightly combed-back hair, the models were the embodiment of inexorable physical perfection as they marched down the catwalk. The show was a cavalcade of high energy, with the added excitement of a black bat flying into the room and twirling around over the models’ heads, in what many guests thought to be a deliberate performance. After the show, a gig by synth-pop duo Hurts (dressed head-to-toe in Dior Homme, naturally) got the crowd dancing. “I think they are a great representation of contemporary dandyism”, said a relaxed Van Assche as models challenged the crowd to a dance-off, beginning what would be an all-night after party.

Guillaume Henry mesmerizes Italy

If you've been following my Italian adventures through Twitter and Instagram, you'll know just how fabulous thursday's Carven performance in Florence was. For further details, I have written a little article on the soirée for L'Express Styles which I am translating here to English for your reading pleasure. Also, for those of you who would like to read the original article in French, you can do so by CLICKING HERE. Oh, and all these pictures were taken by Jean-Etienne Portail.

It was the surpise of the week: in a place kept in the utmost secret until the very last minute (and which turned out to be the Velodromo delle Cascine), Guillaume Henry had carte blanche to present his spring/summer 2013 collection. At 7:30 pm the intrigued guests arrived to the velodrome's entrance and were amazed to discover an inmense green race track filled with about 30 set tables. Tablecloths of cotton and lace, sets of deliciously odd china and Chianti bottles announced an Italian dinner. Among cherry tomatoes and mozzarella, the conversation inevitably turned towards simple pleasures. It was at this moment that, announced by a loudspeaker, waiters appeared scurrying about, carrying their filled trays with one hand in miraculous balance. Male models walked alongside them in this extraordinary race, some of them in bikes, followed by a military brass band.

Inspired by the courses des garçons de café, popular in Paris during the early XXth century, Carven's art director Guillaume Henry wanted to spark some old-fashioned French charm over his Italian presentation. His idea succeeded: guests promptly got up to photograph the runners and, once the race was finished, there was even a little award ceremony. The collection was then at its most visible: multicolor madras checks and masculine floral prints stood next to turtlenecks, shirts and écolier pea coats in khaki,green and yellow tones, but also (of course) in blues, whites and reds. The shapes were minimal and constructed, the styling simple. "We had to eliminate a lot of the clothes from the show at the last minute", Guillaume later told me, "it was far too hot for models to wear them". Temperatures, in fact, reached more than 40 degrees in Florence this week.

Some minutes later the models joined the party, sipping on champagne glasses; conversation was lively. The French designer walked among the tables, chatting with the guests. "If I chose to organize a dinner party instead of a regular fashion show, it's because I wanted people to have the chance to meet up and really talk. Simply because fashion is so much more than just clothes. It should be, above everything else, fun". By the end of the evening, nibbling on cherries and strawberries, Style Bubble's Susie Lau smiled: "I'm just taking in this instant. I'm completely content right now". Guillaume Henry no doubt found a complete success.

Mambo Italiano

As you probably know if you follow me on Facebook (and if you don't, you should! It's as easy as CLICKING HERE), I'm in Florence for a couple of days, covering the Pitti Uomo fair, and I'm having a ball. Italy is pretty much the perfect country: the food (I'll admit I'm even more enthusiastic about it than about the fashion), the architecture, the sun... and the Italian men! How do they do it? I mean it, how on earth do they do it? The amount of obnoxiously attractive men per square meter here exceeds the craziest expectations.

Here's the thing: I'm starting to suspect Italians are made differenty to all of us poor humans. Just observe the way chino trousers fit on the ragazzi in these pictures and compare it to the rest of the mortals. The trousers are the same, but the legs look longer, the thighs look sculptural and the buttocks... well, exactly. Many Spanish boys wear chinos: at best, they look like total yawnfest squares, at worst like short-legged chimps. As for the French who wear chinos... they all look the same: imagine Serge Gainsbourg in a pair of those trousers. That's it. 

We are actually so fascinated with the whole thing that it has become one of our favourite conversation subjects since we got here. I say they are simply superior creatures, but most of my friends have pointed out that it's not only about the trouser's fit, but about the whole styling. And it's true.

 

Think about it: who else tucks a silk handkerchief into their breast pockets and wears shirts with ties and cufflinks nowadays? Well, English gentlemen dressed by Savile Row, yes. But the Italians have taken it to the next level, by playing with modernity and baroque clins d'oeil to create a perfectly sleek, modern-day dandy look.

After careful consideration (and very keen observation field work), I have come to think their secret really lies in something as Italian as a Dolce Vita state of mind. These men are not only dressing smartly, they are actually enjoying dressing smartly, as much as they might enjoy a glass of Chianti or the view of a young olive-skin ragazza. It's probably just as simple as that. What do you think? In any case, Viva Italia!

All the pictures here are by Tommy Ton, I think he has the most fantastic take on menswear detail!

Boys Boys Boys

These past two weeks have been filled with surprises for me. Mostly it was me surprising myself, actually. I'm not the person I used to be; where am I? During World Cup, I have found myself cheering to the Spanish team and watching football as stressed and excited as if my life depended on it. Also I have switched from straight to wavy hair. And also, I have discovered I actually like menswear. All my life I used to be completely indifferent to that side of the industry (excepting Hedi Slimane when he was a designer), but it has only taken one mens fashion week to convert me. Actually, it only took one show and a half: the first show of the season was Issey Miyake. I did enjoy the clothes but above all I discovered that looking at male models could be a very nice pastime. By the time the next show started I was a menswear fan (OK, the second show was Rick Owens. His shows can take anyone's breath away). Having seen the same boys over and over again during the week, I have become acquainted with the it-models of the season. Each one has his own style and embodies a different trend, but there is one common trend: long hair. I couldn't agree more on this fashion, I love it! So, all you guys out there, quit going to the hairdresser right this minute and start concentrating on growing some long, luscious hair! Just know that by long hair I don't mean a heavy-metal, Europe- inspired mop, but proper beautiful hair.
I believe the only thing of the old me that I can recognise in this football-loving, wavy-haired menswear addict new me is my taste for extremely skinny, androgynous boys. I have no idea where that came from, but I have never been able to like any man who didn't fit into this beauty canon. So you can imagine my joy when seeing some of the new male models: they are all ill-like skinny, they all look like innocent girls and... now they come with long hair too! And in all versions, from the most discreet, kind of "boy around town" style...

Richie Cotterell

Boudewijn

... to more extreme styles:

Felix

Berthold Rothas

Viggo Jonasson

Hubert Rapisardi

The it-boy of the season is, without a doubt, Marcel Castenmiller. I have heard about 20 boys and girls say they were in love with him. You have to admit he is gorgeous.

There are of course some others who have caught my eye too: I love Tomek with his delicate features and his Yves Saint-Laurent-like flair.

By the way doesn't this picture remind you of another very well known (although fictional) male model?

But Andrej Pejic is the one that has impressed me more than anyone else. From the moment I saw him walking down the Jean-Paul Gaultier catwalk smoking with a cigarette holder and moving his hips like a very elegant woman, I simply haven't been able to get over him.

Conclusions? Just one: I should have been born a gay man...

Je vous trouve très beau

At the YSL headquarters early this morning, during the Prefall presentation, I couldn't help looking at Monsieur Saint Laurent's pictures up on the wall and to remember how handsome and charming he was. Elegance was synonym with his work, and every time he spoke he showed what an interesting and sensitive person he was. Well... maybe they don't make them like that anymore, but, from what I've seen so far, YSL's prefall collection looks rather nice. I'll be working at the showroom for the next week or so, so you can have regular updates about the collection if you follow me on Twitter. I think it's gonna be exciting- among other things, there's gossip about Anna Wintour coming to see the collection on monday with Stefano (I don't need to tell you how the staff are reacting to that, you've seen it all in "Devil wears Prada"). So, yeah, lots of work planned for the next few days.
Have you been following the men's shows? It seems this is the season of short films... I've seen so many already: Marni's (futuristic), Pringle's (hilarious), Prada's (beautiful and mysterious) and of course, YSL's. It's a film by Bruce Weber and I think it's actually really interesting and there's more to it than meets the eye (his talk about nudity reminded me of this picture of M. Saint Laurent I have posted above). I won't post the films here because I guess many of you have seen most of them (unless you want me to, in which case don't hesitate to leave me a comment and ask for it!), but I actually like this film trend.
What I am posting is the sneak preview of the Saint Laurent show that took place earlier today... Can't wait to see the whole collection too!

Toodle-pip

I'm such a bad blogger! I haven't posted at all since I've been in London... What with this and that I've been quite busy, and during the weekend I just wanted to relax and enjoy the Christmassy feeling of the city. Strolling around and, as John Lennon would say, getting a tan from standing in the English rain, I noticed something that, to be honest, I have already noticed a gazillion times before: British men are charming and chic. It's a fact, especially when you come over from Paris (all that urban myth about Parisian women being uber elegant does not apply to Parisian men- in fact, that urban myth is just that: a myth). Whilst men in Paris have a boring (to say the least) way of dressing (horrid stonewashed jeans, American Apparel hoodies and brownish leather jackets, they all look like clones) and couldn't dress up to save their lives (and I'm not even going to speak about Spanish men's sense of style, it's too creepy a subject to hold a place in this blog), British men are creative, modern and elegant. Many people would agree with me: Tom Ford, for instance.

I've realised I hardly ever speak about menswear or men's style in the blog, and there's actually a lot to be said about the subject, so here you have some style icons all men should carefully analyse before getting into their shapeless jumpers and insultingly huge Nike Airs. As actors, they were all ambassadors of the British chic and they are still the reference when it comes to elegance and allure. On the top of the list I would no doubt situate Cary Grant, who was so outrageously elegant he had a clause on his contract allowing him to choose his own outfits at all times. He would dress impeccably for any situation, even to be followed through a cornfield by an assassin plane.

Next on is Lawrence Olivier, who was classy ever since the first day he jumped up on a stage and until well into his 80's.

And how to forget Rex Harrison! Not only he played Professor Higgins like no one else would, he also represented magnificently British style at its peak.

But it was Leslie Howard who first crossed the ocean in order to export his style. He was a bit disappointed in Hollywood, but he contributed to set its (at the time) high elegance and manner standards.

David Niven had a very long career during which he played all sorts of characters and situations, but he is most remembered for his 60's films, his very Brit sense of humour and his irresitible and slightly aloof expression.

And since we are talking about comedy, I couldn't help but to mention the king of all comedians: behind this cup of tea stands Peter Sellers. Forget the very silly and unnerving Inspecteur Clouseau and you have a man (accessorily a genius) with a chic and original sense of style.

David Hemmings represents the "creme" of the Swinging London, and if his character in "Blow Up" is iconic, it is all due to his spontaneous and chaotic "chic fou".

At last, I really feel I have to mention Peter O'Toole. I know I know, he is Irish. That makes a big difference. Or does it? He has equally represented internationally the most refined chic from the Islands. His suave manners drove entire generations of girls (oh and boys) totally mad.

I think these images speak for themselves. All I have to say to the gentlemen are three things:

1. Being a man is not an excuse to dress as a scarecrow.

2. Being elegant does definitely not equal dressing like, say, Mr. David Beckham (there's an example of a totally non-chic Englishman).

3. Boys, stop having your wives and mothers buy all the clothes for you and get out there. You will find that, surprisingly, you can have fun with fashion and still remain straight!