Posts Tagged ‘inspiration’

Floating On Air! I Won!!!

Wednesday, May 22nd, 2013

Upstairs At Cochinechine.

I switched my ‘phone back on, after watching the Baz Luhrmann version of ‘The Great Gatsby’, my head slightly spinning with the beautifully intense overloaded imagery.  Imagine, then my surprise, when I saw that I had won the £900 spending spree prize at my local designer independent boutique!  The fabulous Cochinechine in Hampstead, where I have been known to indulge in Marc Jacobs boots and admired their cool edits of quirky, strong and on-trend pieces.  I am about to go there today: have checked the website multiple times and am more excited that I can spell!  Will let you know what I decide upon.

Downstairs At Cochinechine.

For a chance to win yourself, check their website: http://www.cochinechine.com/


There goes my retort that I never win anything!!!

The Point Is Now…

Thursday, May 2nd, 2013

A school friend, Fiona, who is involved with this fabulous event, has kindly invited me along to the series of talks at RIBA tomorrow hosted by Point.  Looking at the schedule for tomorrow, I have to say I am quite excited to hear Peter York whose opinions upon Sloane Rangerdom proliferated my adolescence with quick witted reference points, when I somehow gatecrashed into a world where women wore pearls, everyone wore their collar up and ‘ok’, literally did end with ‘ya’….

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Themed around the concept of ‘authenticity’, it will be fascinating to hear, (gulp) 20+ years and another Tory PM at Number 10 later, what Peter’s verdict on today’s authenticity is.

http://pointishere.com/schedule/

My Piece For ASOV About The David Bowie is Exhibition Opening At The V&A.

Thursday, March 21st, 2013

From Everyday to Everyman, from Stardust to Space Oddity: The David Bowie is Exhibition at The V&A. By Tamara Cincik.

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The Press Opening of the David Bowie is Exhibition at The V&A.  The first international retropective of David Bowie’s career.

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I think a lot of us hold David Bowie dear to our hearts: like a precious friend who has seen us through so many versions of ourselves. We’ve grown up with him looking back at us across album sleeves and TV performances.  Depending on our age, perhaps we were there right from the start: watching his personas shift from cute quiffed boy next door to asexual alien, from rakish matinee idol, to troubadour.  There is something somehow both avant-garde, yet comforting; if David can do it, so can we.  If he can push himself to change, be creative, let go of success, of characters, identities, in search of new challenges, then so can we.  We don’t have to accept anything less from ourselves, we don’t have to settle for second best.  We can reinvent ourselves.

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When I was starting to style, I was confronted by the fact that the work I was doing, was less than I wanted it to be, than how I dressed myself.  I’d been perfectly confident working as a fashion assistant to some amazing fashion editors, but once it was my name on the page, I felt nervous of being brave, or stepping out of line, of creating stories which were as rich as my imagination.  All of which was obviously frustrating.  One afternoon, I I bought a secondhand copy of ‘Hunkydory’ from Record and Tape Exchange on Camden High Street, where I lived and played it incessently on my record player.  The album would catch and I would have to nudge it over the jump, and the sound was both stereo and scratchy in that way that only records can be.  One song became my repeat play mantra, ‘Quicksand’ and it was these lyrics which pushed me to be braver, to reveal more of myself in my work, to dare to rise to my potential:

I’m not a prophet
or a stone age man
Just a mortal
with the potential of a superman
I’m living on
I’m tethered to the logic
of Homo Sapien
Can’t take my eyes
from the great salvation
Of bullshit faith
If I don’t explain what you ought to know
You can tell me all about it
On, the next Bardo
I’m sinking in the quicksand
of my thought
And I ain’t got the power anymore

I loved the way this ballad spoke of magic and dreams, of self belief and stripping away the bullshit.  That someone from Bromley could work hard, plug away and never give up on his creativity, spurred me on to try to be as good as that song.  I wrote a list to inspire myself with my aspirations and top of the page was: ‘To be as good a stylist as Quicksand is a song.’  Whether I have achieved that is open to debate, but what I do know is, I tried.  I tried really hard.  I let go of the fear.  Can you say the same?

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I was looking forward to the press opening for weeks, would it live up to my hopes, I had a feeling it would, as The V&A consistently holds well curated exhibitions and to take on the popular culture god that is David Bowie, well you have to be brave and you have to have done your research.

I got a great sense of his collaborations, such as how at an early stage in his career learning dance and mime with Lindsay Kemp informed his performance personas, from Ziggy through to Ashes to Ashes, via a fascinating video of a long haired Bowie visiting Warhol at the Factory and nervously miming opening up his chest to pump his heart to camera.

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Similarly the clothes, the collaborations with fashion and set designers to create radical stage personas; these are not simple set builds or indeed costume changes.  If I learnt anything, it was how fully engaged he is with all levels of image control, from the mock-ups of album artwork he drew in coloured pen, to cardboard stage sets.

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By the end of the exhibition, I actually felt very moved.  I really appreciated that this is a man, who like me, perhaps like many of us, has felt like an outsider.  Perhaps this is his appeal?  The normal boy from the suburbs, quite a shy boy, it seems judging from the interviews at the exhibition, who was drawn to keep trying, plugging away at being a singer, reading avant-garde novels on his way into work at an advertising agency, and for a time, 10 years in fact, nothing much happened.  And then when he created his first alter-ego in Ziggy, he was able to act, to manifest a stage identity to launch a messianic Martian: part space Odysseus, part Clockwork Orange anti-hero, somehow it struck a chord, a chord of the alien outsider, the leader from the everyday world made supergod from outerspace.

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David Bowie is 23rd March – 11August 2013

www.vam.ac.uk

By Tamara Cincik.

PS If you read this David, the curators said please could you come to see the exhibition.  If you do, I hope you like it.  I did x.

Inspiration for the Coming Spring…

Friday, March 15th, 2013

Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth.

As winter turns to spring with dramatic weather conditions ranging from epic blizzards to searing sunshine each day, here is this week’s inspiration: Ellen Terry as an Edwardian version of Lady Macbeth.  Drama, glamour, range…

My review of LFW AW13 Published Today On The Luxury Channel.

Wednesday, February 27th, 2013

Magazine > London Fashion Week – A Stylist’s PerspectiveBy Tamara Cincik

LONDON FASHION WEEK – A STYLIST’S PERSPECTIVEBy Tamara Cincik

27th February 2013

Before London Fashion Week, there is a tipping point where anticipation meets anxiety: the fear that I will have no tickets to any of the shows, despite working hard all season on some killer shoots for some great magazines; and then the universal fashion editor’s fear that I have nothing to wear, despite having numerous wardrobes at home literally spilling open with clothes and shoes on a daily basis.

To off-set the first, the postman’s daily deliveries of a multitude of colourful envelopes displaced any nervousness I might have had; while two timely phone calls- one to the lovely Sara at RMG And Co, the PR for The House of Worth, the other to Lizzie from Mishka Vintage – meant without even dipping into the nether regions of my wardrobes (yes, wardrobes!) other than for some key accessories, I was able to sport some amazing clothes for the endless list of shows and events. As with every season, the gaggle of bloggers and assault course of photographers which meet you when you try to walk, without stumbling, across the cobblestones at Somerset House expands into an army of camera lenses, feeling like you are dressed for the day is ever more important. From a Bill Gibb brown leather coat with silver bee embroidery, so rare that at the Issa show, Zandra Rhodes begged me to donate it to her Fashion Museum, a fantastically chic black lace Worth coat and Peter Pan collared chiffon dress, perfect for a deeply chic fashion party, to a retro double act of a Bus Stop striped suit, teamed with a YSL coat so contemporary in its shape with its raised shoulders and slim cut that I wish Hedi Slimane had seen it for inspiration for this season. Like Cinderella camera-ready for the ball, I felt not only show-appropriate, but allowing myself some fun at the stylist’s best game of all, that of dressing up….

Vauxhall Fashion Scout is hosted at the Freemason’s Hall, a location filled with the best interior styling in London, that often I wonder how the shows will surpass this symbolised vision of stars, pentangles and stained glass. Portia from Pop PR hosts several of her shows there, and it was here I dashed uphill in Gina peep-toed heeled boots from Somerset House (no mean feat, awful pun!), for a selection of shows. One highlight was by newcomer to London, Turkish designer Zeynep Tosun: Elizabethan style leather ruffs, pattern embossed over knee boots, which matched the embroidered sleeves on a slouchy biker jacket, jet beads on black velvet teamed with the sheerest chiffon, fluted pencil skirts and wide legged trousers, all served in a palette of autumnal reds, yellows, browns, black and white. This was a confident collection from a London newcomer and one I feel certain we will hear more from very soon.

London Fashion Week is a fantastic opportunity to catch up with fellow fashion editors: sitting next to me at the Temperley show held in the Dorchester Ballroom was the lovely Tiffany Fraser Steele, whom I interned for at Tatler, and is now Senior Fashion Editor at Marie Claire. The collection was a cool customer of chic, inspired by Hitchcock’s leading lady Tippi Hedren. From a white swing coat, falling open over a chevron patterned black dress, teamed with soft black leather gloves, to Swarovski embellished collars, worn with polo-necked dresses and accessorised with white driving gloves, this was a collection perfect for cocktail hour and off-duty starlets. Bernard Chandran’s show had a similarly Hitchcock sensibility, styled by my friend Karen Binns, with Kim Novak as this show’s ice blonde heroine. Handbags were tightly taut to the elbow, while block coloured satin silhouettes were teamed with matching coloured polo-necked balaclavas (a trend in the making), topped with Oriental-style hats.

At the Osman show, I was seated next to the lovely Virginia, whose collection of vintage gorgeousness has been used by many designers as an inspiration for their collections. Her shop’s basement is an ode to Miss Havisham: visions of the palest pastel chiffon and lace, from virginal white Victorian underwear to delicate deco bias-cut dresses. These vintage clothes are a tutorial in craftsmanship, worthy of any fashion show. The Osman show was softer and somehow sexier than I have seen from him in previous collections. The dropped 90s style sleeve (a strong trend for all the collections) was in evidence: from a short-sleeved grey coat, teamed with brocade trousers and draped blouse, to an assymetrical hemmed gilt-hued dress, or an embroidered cream and gold cape. The coherent palette of winter whites, iridescent metallics and soft tones flowing into a strong black finale felt confident and is certain to sell well.

Roksanda Ilincic designed my wedding dress and very lucky I was too to wear something so fabulously fairy tale designed by a woman who wears her own designs, and therefore knows just where to place a zip or a pleat, to make her customer look as beautiful with as little fuss as possible. It sounds simple, but given the amount of complex designs out there, I can tell you that sadly it isn’t. Roksanda showed at the Savoy Ballroom, conveniently located close to Somerset House, but rather than a simple catwalk, has the feel of a latter-day couture show, with it’s Tiffany blue and gold walls and mirrored panels. For the show however, it was subverted with carpeted walls in pinks and pastels, designed by Gary Card, to hint at the colours in the collection. Pinks and greys were off-set by orange and lurid green. Roksanda is known for her clever colour combinations and this season didn’t disappoint. If the carpets and wood hinted at 70s suburbia, there was a subversion at the centre of this collection, with maroon woollen dresses and wide pleated skirts, teamed with black PVC T-shirts and sports jackets.

While Paul Smith’s evening show was hosted at Tate Britain, a 70s referenced collection of stylish separates, Meadham Kirchhoff’s show was held at The Tate Modern. I walked over from Somerset House across the river with stylist Sasa Thomann, admiring the view and chatting about the season. We entered the Topshop show space to Ravel’s Bolero, which lead me into daydreams of Torville and Dean. I was expecting therefore something dreamy, light and fit for ice-skaters. Whilst their signature, fast-paced, over-all-too-quickly show took each of us by surprise, it was as much for this season’s commercialism as for the beauty of the collection. Gone were the witches and puppets, the painted dolls and raver goddesses; in their place was a subversive take on Marc Jacob’s 60s monochrome SS13 world, with Chanel-style jackets, a PVC apron central panel over a double-breasted white coat and my personal favourite, a black velvet long dress with white chiffon collar and hem of patterned white lace, perfect for the Russian blogger star, oligarch’s wife and fashion big-spender Ulyana Sergeenko in its poetic romance.

My last London show of the season was Ziad Ghanem, which Sasha Lilic urged Tara St Hill and I to come with him to see, after enjoying the beautifully mature collection by Maria Grachvogel (that lady knows how to drape!), and the last-day-on-earth-so-let’s-enjoy-it eccentricity of the Ashish show, styled by my ex-assistant and bridesmaid Anna Trevelyan. Ziad Ghanem clearly has cult and underground in his very DNA; the make-up alone was fantastic: a vision of colour and drama, inspired by transvestites and 50s glamour. The models were a celebration of quirky casting – tattooed, curvaceous drag queens: each one a different, divergent sense of beauty and all cheered along by the buoyant crowd. From a canary yellow cat bowed blouse, worn with a slim cut African printed bold back split skirt, to a lilac taffeta wide-hipped skirt, worn with a poppy embroidered hand-painted blouse and 70s style turban, this was a happy collection, which the audience adored. When the finale came with a soundtrack of Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life, the crowd clapped along smiling, not a fashion pout amongst them.

To see more of Tamara’s work, visit www.tamaracincik.com

 

The New Designer I Think Will Be A Star: Zeynep Tosun

Monday, February 25th, 2013

My Hot Tip As One To Watch: Zeynep Tosun's AW13 Show.

Portia at Pop PR urged me to come along to this show and I am delighted that I did.  A brilliantly focused collection, coherent in it’s autumnal palette and rich fabrics: from gleaming leathers, to embossed over the knee boots, from jet beaded chiffons, to Elizabethan ruffs; this was a fantastically confident show by a new designer, who I am sure we shall hear more about very soon.  Much as I love attending those large spectacle shows and am particularly looking forward to the epic experience that is the Chanel show in Paris, there is something rather wonderful about seeing fresh talent, especially when you see something rare, alchemical and brilliant, which you know will be a big name very soon.  A definite ace card.

www.zeyneptosun.com

Welcome To My Life.

Tuesday, February 12th, 2013

Black Cat, White Cat.

The mafia overlord from one of my top ten films: Emir Kusturica’s Black Cat, White Cat.

I come back to this image, as this is similarly how my life feels right now: colorful and absurd…

From Offering His Kingdom For A Horse To A Leicester Car Park.

Tuesday, February 5th, 2013

Richard The Third.

Possibly the best news of the year, even if it is only February, is that Richard The Third was buried under what is now a council car park in Leicester.

That the last Plantagenet king has lain under a Midlands municipal car park has to be one of the most geniusly poetic endings for a hubris-laden king, whom Shakespeare proclaimed offered his kingdom for a horse at the Battle Of Bosworth Field.

Did he murder the Princes In The Tower?

Did he really have a humped back, or was that as I had always thought a Tudor piece of propaganda?  Surprisingly yesterday we found out that judging from archeological tests on the skeleton, it seems he did.

How did he speak?  I have heard he apparently sounded like a Brummie.  How do they know?!

I love history and read many books on Richard The Third as a teenager, the ultimate piece of Tudoristy rebellion.  That this news comes to remind us of events in 1485,  during a sea of current day corruption, recession and war, makes us realise how common these themes truly are.

Laurence Olivier as Richard The Third.

With The Form Conforming Duly, Senseless What It Meaneth Truly…

Thursday, January 24th, 2013

Meryl Streep as The French Lieutenant's Woman.

I have always had a base line love for Victorian literature.  It was one of my favourite periods of literature for my degree.  I loved how interior worlds, passions and sentiment were replicated and revealed.  As we imploded as an Empire, the strict structures of the form gave way via World War One to Modernism and a fractured universe where nothing was as clear as the coded revelations of a generation before – except that these in their way had hinted at this very discrepancy – gathering momentum.  Last week I read ‘Elijah’s Mermaid by Essie Fox, a latter-day proponent of what has become known as ‘Vic-Lit’, perhaps somewhat disparagingly, since the format favours the female.  A modern mind interpreting the 19th century obsessions with mental health, female subjugation, Pre-Raphaelite aspirations and back-door brothels.  The thread of the Thames, water, mermaids neatly interplays these motifs, as we dive through the novel, with the clarity of our seemingly more evolved empirical methodologies, our world of equal pay, equal rights, oh yes and page three…

Circling the masterpiece of ‘Vic-Lit’ I decided to enter the mother-ship, the maestro of the format, and this week am reading ‘The French Lieutenant’s Woman’, by John Fowles.  Having seen the film and loved the intertwined stories, I was surprised to find this was a Harold Pinter script invention, clever man, to highlight Fowles’ knowing narration, his pitch-point moments of standing back into the present day.

“Charles did not know it, but in those brief poised seconds above the waiting sea, in that luminous evening silence broken only by the waves’ quiet wash, the whole Victorian Age was lost.  And I do not mean he had taken the wrong path.”

Genius, and as I try to break the deadlock of writer’s block for my weekly writing class, I yet again bow down to another technician’s searing talent…

Meanwhile, rather tritely, back on Planet Fashion, as I prep for my shoot next week, off to Oman for Vogue, I flick through style.com and notice that likewise of course there is always room for an epic cape, especially at couture, and especially when worn by a friend, in attendance of budding couturier Ulyana Sergeenko, whose universe like mine seems like a Russian epic filled with romantic swansongs and pre-revolutionary text.

Time To Dig Out My Tap Shoes.

Tuesday, January 8th, 2013

Top Hat: Fred and Ginger.

‘I dance in heels and backwards…’  She also manages to make feathers and a braid utterly glamorous.

Here is what I learnt today:-

Wardrobe: The “feathers” incident

Although Bernard Newman was nominally in charge of dressing the stars, Rogers was keenly interested in dress design and make-up. For the “Cheek to Cheek” routine, she was determined to use her own creation: “I was determined to wear this dress, come hell or high water. And why not? It moved beautifully. Obviously, no one in the cast or crew was willing to take sides, particularly not my side. This was all right with me. I’d had to stand alone before. At least my mother was there to support me in the confrontation with the entire front office, plus Fred Astaire and Mark Sandrich.”

Due to the enormous labour involved in sewing each ostrich feather to the dress, Astaire — who normally approved his partner’s gowns and suggested modifications if necessary during rehearsals — saw the dress for the first time on the day of the shoot, and was horrified at the way it shed clouds of feathers at every twist and turn, recalling later: “It was like a chicken attacked by a coyote, I never saw so many feathers in my life.” According to choreographer Hermes Pan, Astaire lost his temper and yelled at Rogers, who promptly burst into tears, whereupon her mother, Lela, “came charging at him like a mother rhinoceros protecting her young.” An additional night’s work by seamstresses resolved much of the problem, however, careful examination of the dance on film reveals feathers floating around Astaire and Rogers and lying on the dance floor. Later, Astaire and Pan presented Rogers with a gold feather for her charm bracelet, and serenaded her with a ditty parodying Berlin’s tune:

Feathers — I hate feathers
And I hate them so that I can hardly speak
And I never find the happiness I seek
With those chicken feathers dancing
Cheek to Cheek

Thereafter, Astaire nicknamed Rogers “Feathers” — also a title of one of the chapters in his autobiography — and parodied his experience in a song and dance routine with Judy Garland in Easter Parade (1948).