We have longed and longed and longed for it with despair, but Summer has finally decided to show its "joli minois" in Paris. This is literally the season I live for (Spring? Autumn? Merely transitional periods. Winter? A vile season fit just for hibernation) and to me it's synonym with all kinds of good things: sun, Spain, fresh fruit, gardens, animals, walking barefoot on the grass, swimming pools, surfboards, barbecue parties and friends. So welcome back summer, I love you forever!
If you haven't yet seen Steven Soderbergh's Behind the Candelabra you need to drop whatever you're doing and watch it right now. For Michael Douglas's amazing acting and for the rare pleasure of seeing Matt Damon walking around in skimpy swarovski-embroidered speedos, but also because it's a turning point in film history: this is the first time a TV company hs produced a movie that has the same quality as any traditional Hollywood feature, to the point of premiering at the Cannes Film Festival. Soderbergh had problems rising funds since the story was deemed "too gay" by studios (and they say there is no censorship anymore...), so he got picked up by HBO. I personally hope this is the beginning of a long line of movies with innovative plots that will give the industry a much-needed shake-up.
Behind the Candelabra has had a great impact on me for all of these reasons, but also because it has rekindled my love affair with the city that Christian extremists have dubbed "a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah". Las Vegas is truly fabulous! As Joe Pesci said in Scorsese's Casino, "it's a city made of money" where the concept of good taste doesn't exist. In Paris - where the constant focus on tasteful living and understated chic can get quite oppressive - I always feel like I'm committing some sort of capital sin when I express my love of (cue French people cringing) Dolce & Gabbana, Playboy magazine or long gel nails. What I think most French people don't understand is there's an art to "good" bad taste and tackiness too. And no city masters it like good old Vegas. So in case you had forgotten how great the worldwide capital of gambling is, here are 10 reasons to remember:
1. Las Vegas is the only place where it's acceptable for a man to dress like this.
Or this,
or this.
We don't see nearly enough silk, sequins or fur on men in the rest of the world, which is a shame.
2. It's the only place where this is considered elegant jewellery.
Liberace does it better. That is all.
3. It' the only place where it's acceptable for a decent(ish) woman to dress like this:
Or like this.
We, the women from all other cities in the world, have some serious catching up to do on feathers, gold and chinchilla.
4. It's the only place on earth where it's acceptable for a house to look like this.
Enough said.
5. With 300 sunny days per year, Vegas is the only city in the world where wearing fur coats when there's 30 degrees outside is in.
This might be changing though. I hear in Dubai the latest fashion for wealthy princesses is turning the air conditioning full speed and inviting your friends for a fur tea party. But Vegas has a unique brand of fur glamour though.
6. There must be something wonderful about Vegas when entertainment royalty such as Frank Sinatra, Liz Taylor, Mohamed Ali or Joan Collins goes there to celebrate birthdays and other milestones.
Who wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday amidst a cloud of marabou feathers and girls in sequined bikinis?
7. If it wasn't for Vegas we wouldn't have Showgirls, that utterly vile masterpiece of film history.
I've seen softcore porn movies with better plots and dialogue. But somehow this movie is iconic and addictive, so it must be good in an Ed Wood kind of way.
8. And speaking of showgirls, flooziness reaches a whole new level in Vegas. Which is obviously fascinating.
I must confess I've always been intrigued by Vegas floozies. I saw Casino when I was about 10 (yeah, probably a tad young, but it taught me a valuable life lesson: the house always wins) and I was enthralled by Sharon Stone's Ginger. That girl certainly got around: she knew how to properly gamble, how to tip casino employees to her advantage, how to get 100 dollars out of Robert DeNiro by just saying "I need to go powder my nose" and how to attach her hairpiece flawlessly. It takes a real skill to be a professional Vegas hussy. Chapeau.
9. Elvis's legend and his sequined overalls wouldn't have existed without Vegas.
We've got a lot to be thankful for.
10. Vegas has generally made an art form of tackiness and bad taste...
... so don't be afraid to apreciate the goodness in good bad taste and to indulge in it all. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
I know what you’re all
thinking: “Not another lovey-dovey Valentine’s Day post, please!” I know
because I invented Valentine’s Day dissing. All of you know just how much I loathe all the Valentine cheesiness,
the heart-shaped chocolate boxes, the red rose bouquets and the candlelit
dinners with white chocolate and raspberry puddings followed by, well, you
know, what two people “in love” are supposed
to do on Valentine’s Day. Call me cynical, I think love is not best expressed
by Nestle chocolates and roast beef served between two candles. But hey, I’m
not just cynical, I’m also superficial and looking for lots of new readers, so
I’ve decided to give in to the Valentine’s Day hype and do a post on what some
people consider “the greatest expression of eternal love”. I consider it a post
on “really fancy, cool weddings (with delicious cakes)”. What does love have to do with it?
Thought weddings were the
epitome of “romance”, all sparkling princesses and prince charmings and
meringue-like dresses and pink cupcakes? Think again, weddings can be cool,
eccentric and… super chic! Here’s proof: these four fashion industry insiders
whipped up weddings so fabulous they almost made me lose all my cynicism and
wish I was hitched. Take a look at these four different styles and tell me
which one is your favourite!
The
Countryside Bride: Kate Moss
When it comes to British
weddings, there’s only one Kate (and I don’t mean Middleton). Miss Moss
exceeded expectations with her 1930’s English Rose-inspired wedding. The girl
got everything right: chiffon dress by (a recently outcast) John Galliano,
bridesmaids wearing fresh flower crowns, garden celebration and a three-day
party that would have impressed Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. Tip: Kate served sidecar cocktails
(brandy, orange liqueur and lemon juice) all through the celebrations… mixed by
her favourite barista from the Ritz in Paris!
The
Bohemian Bride: Margherita Missoni
Nozze all’italiana for
Margherita: the Missoni heiress chose a dress custom made for her by
Giambattista Valli (it’s only natural. After all, who’s ever heard of a Missoni
all-white dress) that made her look like a Virgin in a Boticelli painting. Can
you think of anything more delightful than that? She could: Miss Missoni made
her guests sit on the grass, in signature multicoloured Missoni cushions, to
have a picnic under the olive trees. Tip:
Margherita hired a fortune-teller who read everybody’s palms. I dare you to be
more Fellini than that.
The
Avant-Garde Bride: Katie Shillingford
Who said city weddings were
only for anally retentive boring bourgeoises? Katie Shillingford proved getting
married in central London
can be mega cool. The stylist made her appearance spotting candyfloss pink hair
(YES!) and a Gareth Pugh wedding gown that took my breath away, looking like a 21st
century version of a Pre-Raphaelite muse. Along with her bridesmaids (dressed
in black), she partied until the small hours at Eltham Palace
and danced to the music DJed by Matthew Stone. Tip: Katie’s wedding cake was all white icing and white flowers on
the outside… and rainbow sponge on the inside.
The
Sustainable Bride: Pamela Love
Meanwhile, on the other
side of the pond, jewellery designer Pamela Love got married in Long Island. Not one to do things halfway, she showed her
commitment to ecological and ethical causes through a Native American-inspired
aesthetic (tepees, an acoustic guitar gig, wildfires and Appalachian blankets)
and a sustainable dress (which she wore barefoot) and delicious vegan menu. Tip: no need to throw money around,
Pamela and her friends organized the party themselves, sourcing the food from
nearby farms, mixing juice cocktails and arranging wild flowers in mason jars.
I’ve just come back to Paris from a healing, therapeutic and mostly
fabulous Spanish holiday, and… I’m depressed. People generally talk about a “post-vacation”
depression (well, at least in Spain, I’m not sure they do in other countries with
a less Catholic, more Calvinist religious background), but I think in my case
it’s more of a “post-wilderness” depression. You see, after more than a month
spent mainly on a surfboard, on a bike, in a swimming pool or just on the grass
carelessly sleeping next to my dog or to the cows, Paris and its merciless glamour come as a
shock. And I’m supposed to come back to the city, dress all chic (the sole act
of wearing shoes after 5 weeks of living barefoot feels like Chinese torture,
so at this stage I can’t even handle the thought of heels or red lipstick),
stop doing things like using living animals’ backs for pillows and walking
around in a bikini, and act as if fashion was actually fun, when the truth is
after surfing it feels painfully bland and unimportant. I’ve noticed I adapt
very easily to the laid back life of the country, and on the other hand I am
extremely reluctant to the whole I’m-so-cosmopolitan-I-jet-between-the-coolest-cities-of-the-world
thing. More and more I find civilization too… civilized.
The problem with civilization is that is seems
to be paramount for evolution and culture. It is thanks to an ultra-civilized
society that we enjoy things like table manners, libraries and push-up bras.
Some people even think humans need to get away from their own natures in order
to be superior beings. On the other hand, think about some of the headaches it
all has brought to us: paperwork. In-laws. The Metro. Not to mention the foul
bad mood those 3 things have the power to create in adults. In a nature state,
as long as you have coconut water and you know how to fish with a stick you’re
alright.
The problem with civilization (especially if
you happen to live in Paris) is that it creates a hell load of artificial
problems. I.E.: “I don’t have a huge expensive car/ Balenciaga’s latest it bag/
an invitation to join the country club”. Is it seriously as important as all
that? The amazing thing about spending time in the country seeing animals,
taking care of plants and generally concentrating in nature lies in the fact
that all those ridiculous worries seem to vanish. I always feel rooted and at
peace in the wild; and I hate having to come back to those shallow obsessions
and insecurities.
The problem with civilization is that it’s all
about discomfort. Look at the fashion. OK, it’s fabulous, it’s creative, it’s
cool. Whatever. It’s still uncomfortable. Pencil skirts that make it difficult
to walk, high heels that make it difficult to even exist, hats that fly away
with the wind, elaborate hairdos that fall apart with the rain. Not that I don’t
love the looks of it, but it’s like a very sophisticated prison. Can’t someone
reinvent the magnolia leaf skirt-tiare flower necklace look?
I know I seem all pessimistic by saying all
this, don’t take me too seriously. But do think about it. I was watching a
documentary about George Harrison the other day and he talked about how his
meditation journey in India made him happy, as it inspired him to be more spiritual,
and how angry and frustrated he felt by the fact that he could not get rid of
his earthly duties, business in London, the Beatles etc. I guess I feel
identified with all that (except for the part where 3 Beatles wait for me in
London). I am somehow smitten with the idea of Rousseau’s Noble Savage and I
admire Gauguin and Marlon Brando for having dared to say “to hell with you,
modern civilization” and escaping to a wilder life, where it all seems more
logical and more freeing and people have more possibilities to really develop.
So I guess I’ll try to keep all that in mind, even under the grey skies of
Paris. Because, you see, the problem with civilization is that it is not human
enough for humans.
