Classe | Comme des Garçons

Don't compare me to frills and flowers and lattes

Don't compare me to to tattoos and museums and dark music

Draw me like one of your French Girls

But know

that I'm not the same.

Tell me, would you love me if I was pretty, and ugly too?

Dressed in oversized jumpers, long skirts and scruffy patent boots

Or is it soft hues of nudes and icy blues that seduce you

Do you prefer messy purple hair or is it honey blonde that attracts you?

Because purple won't shine the same way in the sun.

Not like it would in the eyes of the moon.

And oversized jumpers won't flatter the silhouette

Like every garment you believe should. 

When they tell you you are not beautiful enough

When they tell you are too beautiful

and they will

Tell them you don't care.

Comme des Garçons

Comme des Garçons is based in Tokyo and Paris and is targeted at girls who aren't afraid to be who they want to be, utilising from all angles and all sides art, politics and culture in search of their own story. 

In a superficial world we seek liberation in the purest form.

23.03.16

Classe | A Valentino Love Story

08.03.16 

Paris, France.

How easy it must seem from the outside looking in

Delicate ballet tulles and silk made flats

wounds carefully hidden beneath 

and within

Unseen teardrops that fall from Swarovski chandeliers 

Hair slicked back in the tightest chignon. Face defined to perfection with powder and a strong nude lip. Hands clasped loosely, heart softly paced.  A powerful surge of energy hits as the lights go on. The thud of the music begins, matching the pace of a pulse - soft and empowering. Ready to spring into grace, ready to exploit the fuel we crave. This is the dance of our lives beginning in

5, 4, 3 , 2

5.30A.M and nobody else is awake to feel the aches and pains of working late into the night. When all motivation is lost, in routine we must trust. One last time because practice will make perfect. One more try and it'll be worth it. Hearts heavy, we drag ourselves out of bed swallowing the gaping hole that threatens to engulf us. Like war veterans we are broken into a thousand and one pieces. Like ballerinas we face the world eyes shining, hoping that soon the rain will end and the sun, emerge. The cold shower washes the self pity away. Dressing in uniform to prepare the mind for what is to come - hard gruelling work. 

Wondering when our time will come, 

for beautiful ballet tulle dresses and silk made flats.

Classe | Youth by Just Drew

XIV.II.MMXVI

Manhattan, NY.

Designer bags, designer cars, designer champagne, but what more? There'll always lie a craving for more and when one can't find it in luxury, one needs to look a little closer. 

Lounging around on chartered private planes. A trip to Bali because we crave a new form of reality. Sunsets and starry nights much more beautiful than any explosion of abstract art. Nothing is better than the original. Nothing is better than the real deal. Dancing under the stars in intricate metallic sarongs and lace bikinis. Drinking expensive champagne and eating chocolate covered strawberries. 

Showers of powdered paint cover us from all directions, destroying the materialistic things we lend so much importance to, breaking down the value until they mean nothing. Until the only thing left to admire is our beating hearts under the dark clouds melting into sunrise. But old habits die hard and once again we're searching for freedom in designer bags, cars and champagne. Craving cashmere like cocaine wondering who we are in a world built on swirls of confusion. 

Classe | In my #Calvins

---

So we stare out of car windows, hair blowing, soul searching.

---

There's a general rule in life that you can control what you want but you can't control how you get it. Except I am a control freak and a worrier. I like to be in charge of things and when plans don't work out  the way I want them to, I have an emotional breakdown. Every single time.  I am fussy and I like things, situations and life in general to be perfect. In my head I am consistently in a fantasy world, It's what keeps me calm when a storm decides to hit. The funny thing is I eventually get what I want but never in the way I imagined I would get it. Yep, my life is one big mind fuck.

BUT every so often I'll find myself in a mood of nonchalance. In fact I'm in one right now.  I assume this persona of simple seduction and nothing in the world could make me care more than I should.

Calvin Klein Girl

Rolling out of bed at 8AM in a sports bra and tiny panties, putting on music and possibly some boyfriend jeans. A notebook in one hand and some peppermint tea in the other. Maybe we'll jut down our thoughts, maybe we'll jut down our dreams. Or recall things that keep us wide awake at night.

A good song comes on on the radio and this time we can feel the lyrics, not just hear them. An instant urge to get up and pretend to be our favourite rockstars in front of the mirror. Morning exercise feeding into us like heroin.

Night time falls and all we want is the thing we crave: music. So we stare out of car windows, hair blowing, soul searching.

Then we're on the dance floor in the nude. A nude turtle neck crop and tight denim skinny jeans. Conversing with strangers with our eyes as they say more than we could ever possibly voice. Conversations might start, conversations usually end. Resulting in entertainment or a sheer waste of a good song.

But who fucking cares? It was fun to begin with.

Classe | Givenchy Girl

Givenchy Girl 

Givenchy  is made for the girl with a little more grit. The girl who sees the world in not only black and white but blue, grey, navy, purple, turquoise and all of the other colours that could make a rainbow. Ironically so, givenchy is for when we are feeling a little more untraditional, a little more dark and out of control. We don't want flowers and we don't want kale. We want coffee, a philosophical book to read and dinner for breakfast. Monday to Friday we work on our creative souls, craving depth, questioning death and finding more meaning to life than pretty magazine covers and beautifully scented candles. Saving classics like Pride & prejudice for treacherously long weekends. Dangerously reserved in nature but externally outrageous with bold prints, a little black dress anything and sheer material. We want pointed ankle boots and heavily embezzled jackets. The world created in our minds does not resemble the world we view in reality. We are romantics enthralled by mystery and peculiarity.

Classe | Dear Karl

Dear Karl, 

I wish for you to teach me a thing or two about real elegance. Not the type flaunted on TV and magazine covers. I mean archaic, old fashioned elegance. And then I would like you to teach me how to morph it into something of the next generation without loss of quality. 

Quality - such a precious yet rare thing found into today's world, but for you quality flows through your veins. You read books and paint art. You sleep in only white sheets and enjoy complete solidarity. You let the art do the talking commercial or not. You are mysterious but so very charming. You don't think outside of the box. There is no such thing as that. Instead you draw new boxes and find a way for people to want to hop from one box to yours. You own fashion. It's taken me  while to learn why it's taken you so long to brig out your brand. You've built great brands like Chanel, Fendi and now your own brand. What fashion house or magazine exactly does not require the Karl Lagerfeld input? Always a head of the game you are but never one to state it. I have only one nickname for you: 

Chameleon. 

Karl  Kids

We sit around reading books and drinking coffee from wine glasses. It'll be the thing of the future.  You know the thing. The thing you absolutely must do. Running on alcohol seems the thing of the 90s. Coffee is the new drug. Dressed in the whitest button down shirt. No jewellery. And NO blogger hats. Just a pair of ox blood Oxfords. Straight short hair and minimal makeup. There is no beauty in coloured-in eyebrows. Pinstriped tights and a tight leather skirt to match, I don't care to do much but to live life to the fullest. Not for pure enjoyment alone but for the purpose of creation. At dusk we attend the coolest parties. Dancing the night away. Meeting several different people to establish the new aesthetic. Walking home light headed from the music. Not alcohol. Alcohol dulls the mind and there is nothing worse than a mind that cannot be put to good use at dawn.

"Like poetry, fashion does not state anything. It merely suggests."

- Karl Lagerfeld. 

Classe | Girl in Prada

What does it take to build powerful brands like Miu Miu and Prada? What does it take to be worth 3.4 billion dollars? What does it take to create a brand that speaks fluent adage? 

The ability to think like and unlike the masses simultaneously to create outrageously clever concepts. 

Sometimes I think of refining my style because the business side of my brain says simple is commercial and commercial sells. Then Miuccia Prada reminds me that fashion isn't art. Fashion is commercial. Now that doesn't mean the creativity ends there. What it means is that you must work smarter to turn boundaries into advantages. 

For many years, I missed the intelligent part of fashion (blaming the glamourisation of fashion and celebrity construct) which left me in utter frustration. It turns out I wasn't looking closely enough in the first place. Most people don't look close enough. We're stuck in a world where skin defines sexy but Miuccia Prada says otherwise. Miuccia Prada says sexy is intangible. 

I've always felt a bit wilder than the other girls. With acute opinions, raging passion, the will to achieve the impossible, to drink more wine than necessary and to rely on melancholy as much as happiness. I never fit in. It used to bother me. It doesn't anymore.

Prada Girl

Leaving the local library at 6AM in the morning having just finished a classic Jackie Collin's. Page turner created only to leave the heart racing. Hair loosely tied back. No makeup. No nail polish. A palm imprint on my chin from resting my elbow on the table. Legs crossed in the darkest pair of tight denim jeans. Patent black boots. A long ombre coat of aubergine and copper. A white button down shirt placed under a loose black t shirt with the words 

"B E  B O L D  O R  I T A L I C.  N E V E R  R E G U L A R." 

spawled across the chest. Who needs sleep? 3 hours should do before meeting friends at an Andy Warhol exhibition. 

Classe | Belissima Cavalli

Img source: (Roberto Cavalli Official)

I remember writing a letter to Roberto Cavalli stating that he had better work with me because I was in need of being transformed into the most beautiful belle at the ball. This was when I was lying in bed with an awful disease called shingles in August. I mean, clearly I was delusional and the medication I had been taking silenced the voice in my head that was initially screaming -- 

"M r.  R o b e r t o  C a v a l l i  d o e s  n o t  r e a d  l e t t e r s  f r o m    

s t r a n g e  s e l f  p i t y i n g  g i r l s."

Roberto Cavalli was infatuated with beautiful women. His long life dream? To make us feel even more beautiful. With his creative eye, Mr Cavalli morphed women into sensual empresses, lionesses, QUEENS of a queendom using beautiful animal prints, bold colours of nature and dramatic cuts. A passion for the art and anything beautiful. 

Cavalli Girl

Throwing parties of extravagance would become a monthly hobby. A long champagne dress to hide the parts of my body that are most revealing but to bare shoulders, collar bones and a little bit of leg.  I'd order the best Pinot Grigio and Dom Pérignon. I'd find a kick ass caterer to create sushi bowls and yummy desserts. Beautiful velvet throw pillows with gold appliqué. Royal blue chiffon draping from the ceiling. Candles and ancient ornaments ostentatiously placed around the room. Hookah pipes and an intimate guest list. Loud music and a constant flow of discussions would linger around the room. The night is young. Then the night is over. The only task left is to fall asleep in a white print kaftan with nothing but the loud rings of a successful party echoing in my ear. 

Classe | The Sins of Balmain

Img source: (Balmain)

From old money minimalism to the perfectly contrived extravagance of the nouveau riche. From exclusivity to inclusivity. From dust to gold. Balmain is now the most desired fashion house of the 21st century. Olivier Rousteing, one day I'll meet you and ask how you did it and you'll refuse to tell but we'll laugh over coffee in cafe de flore and you'll tell me how poor my French is. 

There is only a thin line that separates yin from yang and on occasion we allow ourselves to cross this line, ripping off the mask that covers our dark sides and allowing ourselves, for one brief moment to embrace dark thoughts, emotions and actions. Our true selves and our egos cohabit within us and everyday we choose between the two.

Balmain Girl

Champagne for breakfast because it's 5pm somewhere in the world. 5AM wakeup calls. Money to earn, money to spend...and people in the world to prove wrong. 100 hour weeks. Sleepless nights. A craving for the fast life so motorcycles over cars. From dawn to dusk. From work life to night life. From leather pants and plain t shirts to eloquently designed beaded couture dresses and blazers. 24 carat  jewels. Elegantly slicked back buns. Musky scents. A work of art.  My body is simply the canvas I choose to decorate.

Classe | Ghesquière Girl

*A big part of fashion for me is drawing out the character in me that identifies with a brand. Introducing you to 'classe'. Storytelling in the form of daydreams and my many personas.*

"Are you good at baking?" 

Odd question, one that might even get me demoted from front row elite of a Louis Vuitton show to priority standing. But It's simply the only question I want to ask Nicolas Ghesquière, Louis Vuitton's creative director. 

With baking, quantity matters. Too much or too little of any one ingredient equals the sour death of your highly anticipated red velvet cake. Suddenly what you take out of the oven doesn't resemble the Instagram photo saved on your phone. LE sigh. No easy task. With fashion the same concept remains. Except Nicolas Ghesquière possesses the perfect recipe. Disrupting simple pieces of garments with aggressive prints, mixing fur with leather, creating opulence of the highest order. Where the clothing actually beats the bag. 

Ghesquière Girl

With the aesthetic of a rebellious suburban Parisian girl, I'd wear my hair loosely in a ponytail and a cherry red lip stain. I'd paint my nails navy and wear vaseline on my cheekbones. Clean, sophisticated and just a little grunge. Charismatically reserved with a cup of black coffee in one hand and a gadget in the other. Skipping ballet lessons just to go into the city to people watch.  I don't want to know how to dance. I want to know how to read minds. Communicating with strangers with my eyes only. Nonchalant yet infatuated with those around me.