Tamara Cincik

Cher Lloyd for Flavor Cover Shoot with Bella Howard.

Am more than slightly in love with this Mishka Vintage Victorian velvet cape.

Jessie Ware in Worth Couture, for The Hunger, shot by Rankin.

Rankin’s studio is literally around the corner from mine: I love that the corner of North London is both curiously anonymous, yet quietly fabulous..  I love London; hope you like this shoot.

Gwyneth Paltrow: Oscars red carpet 2012, dress by Tom Ford.

White reflects all colours; it is purity, bridal, innocent and clean.  Like stark modern architecture, what I loved about this look was how it was a catwalk breath of fresh air on a normally overdone LA red carpet.  The cape adds confidence and drama with it’s strong silhouette, outlining a streamlined body con beauty of a dress.  This is how to stand apart on the walk of fame – in a good way – see that smirk, she knows she looks good!  As a stylist, I would be delighted to have a client allow me to let her be this brave and realise that by combining a strong shape with a simple line and colour you maximise your best dressed list results; Tom Ford for this I salute you.

Sir Ben Kingsley Shoot for Corduroy Magazine, with Peter Ash Lee.

http://www.corduroymag.com/

Lily Cole for Corduroy Magazine with Photographer Peter Ash Lee.

http://www.corduroymag.com/

Too Much is Just Enough Ladies!

Sophie striking a pose in the first look from this afternoon’s shoot.

Such a lovely day: great team, Sophie was a total pleasure.

Top: : Beyond Retro

Body: American Apparel

Skirt: House of Holland

Shoes: Bordello

Eye shadow and shoe harmony: the all new matchy-matchy...

Jacket: Mishka Vintage

Blouse: Atelier Mayer

Trousers: Topshop

Shoes: Topshop

Fade to Grey: Sophie Sways and Swirls to Donna Disco in Halson Heritage.

Dress: Halston Heritage

Shoes: Terry de Havilland

Dukey Dreamboat: my gorgeous baby boy on set.

So great to be able to combine the madness of styling with the earthiness of mothering, thanks to everyone for being so open-minded, I love days like these…

Mishka Vintage

swathes of lame

Treasures resplendent.

One balmy evening two years ago, driving a back-route from Jeremy’s parents through North London, I had one of those rare stop the car please (!!!) moments, as we chanced on Mishka Vintage’s closed potential.  My only other equally memorable stop the car moment, being somewhere in the Transylvanian mountains of Rumania in 1995, when I saw the multi-coloured fantasia-incarnate of a hand embroidered 100 year old traditional folkloric waistcoat.  I live in a world of clothes: literally surrounded with treasures sourced over the past 20 (eek!) + years, plus the weekly supply of designer options prepped in, edited, shot and returned for editorials.  Ergo, I am not easily impressed: I knew this had that rare alchemic frisson where magic realism meets vintage treasure trove.  The window was filled to brimming with stories: Victorian lace,  deco lingerie, 50′s dresses, 70′s clutches; layer upon layer of beautiful things.

History was my route into fashion: a childhood geeky addiction to history reference books fed into my frequent flyer time traveller daydreams, leading me to start my own vintage collection aged 7, as I felt entranced (and still do) by the stories and skills used to create such pieces.  I would imagine people’s lives when these clothes were made; how their world felt and looked.  Never for me just tired old rags: a Flemish lace collar, a beaded deco bag, or a velvet Victorian jacket, has always felt just as fantastic as the this season’s must-haves I work with on a weekly basis for the fashion styling day-job and with the added bonus of running their own  storyline: one filled with gilt-edged glamour, music hall melodrama, or Hollywood dialogue.

While organising my wedding 2 summers ago, I took the drive out past Crouch End one Saturday, between bouts of buying most of North London’s charity shops stock of vintage china for the wedding, to see what lay inside the promise of this newly found delight.  In my head the owner would be old, eccentric and prone to hoarding.  Imagine my surprise therefore, when I met the smiling glamour that is Lizzie Greene: a woman who manages to combine motherhood, high heels, a predilection for bold lipsticks and an encyclopedic knowledge of British 20th Century fashion design.  ie my kind of woman: someone for whom too much is just enough, while geeking out on quirky sartorial trivia; albeit yes indeed known to hoard, or as I like to term it to my husband: archiving.

Say cheese Jet: Lizzie with her youngest son Jet.

Jet is quite the mini rock star and taken to lying on furs, while making Darth Vadar noises.

Towards the light: Mishka's red mood section.

Sorbetastic treasures.

True blue, baby I love you....

Lounge lizard jackets for Studio 54 moments...

Lizzie has become a dear friend: someone who has lent me the most precious pieces for my editorial shoots, as well as a first port of call for music or advertising jobs, as her clothes often add a necessarily unique flourish.  The skirt I used for Charlotte Church’s recent single cover, was a Mishka purchase.

Charlotte Church: Back to Scratch.

Worn with Rochas, to me the Mishka Vintage Victorian Cape makes the outfit. Taken From my Shoot for Grey AW10; Photographer: Stefano Galuzzi.

The Bat's Brits 2010 bag: a Mishka find.

This afternoon I was there returning pieces lent for 2 of my 3 shoots this week: one for Six Magazine, one with Lily Cole for Corduroy.  However, if you were my styling client and looking for that one-off party dress, wow factor wedding gown, or retro-referenced Annie Hall meets Celine this season piece, Mishka Vintage would be on our list of must-dos.  When you do get there, take the time: this is not a 5 minute Primark collision course.  Chat to Lizzie, allow yourself to relax into remembering/experiencing what boutique-style one on one smiling service feels like; then see what magic you walk away with.

Mishka Vintage Clothing

Address:

212a, Middle Lane

Postcode:

N8 7LA

City/Town:

London (London)

Main phone:

020 8341 3853

John Galliano: Aka the Deposed King of the Catwalk

The fashion world and tabloids alike have been alive with the sorry tale of John Galliano’s drunken anti-semitic rants.  It seems that repeatedly over recent months, Galliano has been sitting alone in the corner of a Marais bar, where after a few drinks he’s taken to pouring venom and anger at anyone who would listen.  Being a bitchy queen on a I hate ugly people tip is one thing; displaying anti-semitic beliefs is quite another.  The off with his head reaction of Sidney Toledano, Head of the House of Christian Dior, has been swift in it’s verdict: Galliano has been dismissed from the House this week, along with a terse statement regarding ‘his odious behaviour’.  A man given to overcoming his demons with ritualised routines of gym, gym, gym, at a guess, I would suggest he had been slacking for a while at the office: such behaviour is never isolated and indicates instead a total breakdown.

This whole story makes me feel extremely sad: only a year after Alexander Mcqueen’s suicide, somehow fashion has shown it’s ugly sister side.  Both designers were fashion’s Cinderellas: boys from London council estates made good, whose talent and hard work, won them great deserved accolades.  Both clearly alone, isolated, removed from reality and driven to the most tragic of conclusions.

Given that Mrs Burstein from Browns has always been cited and celebrated by Galliano for launching his career, that Sidney Toledano worked with him at Dior and even that the brand recently chose Natalie Portman to be the face of its latest perfume campaign, I find it hard to believe that in his heart he is truly anti-semitic; he always seemed so courteously aware of how far his career had been served and helped by people of the Jewish faith.  Anyone who has been to his shows, will remember that each season, he always takes a catwalk bow in Mrs. Burstein’s direction, in homage to her support.  An individual’s personal/inner racism is always hard to comprehend and certainly these catcalling rants are ugly, unnecessary and horrid; made all the more ridiculous by the fact that none of the people shouted at, were in fact Jewish.  As the Marais is the traditional Jewish quarter, from where so many people were marched to the camps by the Nazis in the war, of course only adds to our revulsion.

Mrs. Burstein from Browns, who famously launched John Galliano's career, when she bought his whole graduation collection for the store.

However, it seems to me a pathetic cry for help: a man consistently regarded as one of the most courteous and talented in the industry, so lonely and removed from reality that he is striking out at strangers, while drunk alone in a bar.

Where were his friends?  Where were his colleagues?  Why was no one stopping him?  Why did noone feel that they could talk straight to him and stop all this?  Why does it seem that fashion’s few true geniuses are so lonely and disturbed that they act out: Mcqueen with his awful, lonely suicide; Galliano with these repeated career suicide racist rants.  Repeated behaviour to strangers: this would suggest that on a level he knew he would be caught out eventually.

Entering the Paris police station, mobbed by photographers, clearly not looking well...

Sidney Toledano is right to be disgusted, act quickly and dismiss John Galliano; it is not acceptable to behave like that.  No one is such a star that this is ok. But what worries me nearly as much is that the fashion industry inculcates such removed from reality madness in those at the top of the pile.  The very people we look up to: those who show true creative genius, seem to be those who most need the simple, nurturing support which us lesser mortals call a happy family life.  From the first shoot I assisted on where we shot one of his beautiful bias cut dresses for The Face, to a recent nomads story I styled for Please!, inspired by his brilliant AW10 show, Galliano’s work has consistently inspired my own, his shows always a Paris highlight.

Images from my recent Please! shoot, inspired by the John Galliano AW10 collection. Photographer: Thomas Lohr.

Sadly  it is these tacky, tragic lonely rants by someone clearly over the edge of a nervous breakdown and displaying all the tacky symptoms of a cliched racist, are how he will now be remembered.  I hope he gets the help he clearly needs to overcome these issues and his family and friends help him back to sanity.

John Galliano show AW10