This is definitely a mantra for me, although I’m trying to be a little less fey and girly and more stylish and womanly.
I’ve thought in the past how strange it is that the heart symbol has made it into the pantheon of “standard symbols” along with the circle, the triangle and the star. These all represent things we find in maths or in nature – I know stars aren’t literally star-shaped but the symmetrically and regularly pointed circular symbol makes sense as it’s the way we perceive the stars, the sun, or a flower for example. The animal heart really isn’t that heart-shaped. But there’s something immensely appealing about it, and I’ve always loved heart-emblazoned designs (I am also in no way a Valentine’s Day nay-sayer, regardless of the likelihood of receiving anything).
The heart is different. This article on the Shutterstock image library blog briefly explores the possible roots of this symbol to try and imagine where it came from but it didn’t convince me. I may have to get this book and find out more.
Heart image from Jonghank’s Flickr.
Remember what it felt like when a new Luella collection came out? I imagine it’s what it was like shopping at Biba in the 1960s – zeitgeisty, uniquely personal in its relationship between designer and audience and encapsulating London. Perhaps it was too personal and culty; it was certainly too easily copied. If anyone knows what Luella Bartley is doing professionally these days, I would love to know, and I hope that one day she creates something new for me to consume. I suppose the closest thing is to keep reading Lula.
Clarks have done good with this new collaboration. Eley Kishimoto, eh? Nice one Clarks. The collaboration consists of nine different shoes – including mid heeled pointy toed courts, a desert boot and wedges – each featuring a delicious geometrical print.
I love a good pair of wedges. The Clarks/Eley ones have lots of great features including an ankle strap (which helps keep the shoe on your foot whilst walking), fun pattern and good sized peeptoe at the front. And I bet it’ll be comfortable too. Available exclusively online from 1st March.
Gatsby has never been a book I particularly love. It’s not because I was made to read it at school – I’ve powered through that pain barrier to literary passion with other books. It’s just never touched me.
I am not a snob, and I often prefer the film version of books, like Atonement for example. The new Gatsby film promises a lot, having Baz Luhrmann as a director, Leonardo di Caprio as Gatsby and Carey Mulligan as Daisy – I think she has the perfect level of vulnerability and yet also unavailability that Daisy embodies in the book. She’s the faint little light across the lake in human form.
The costumes also look marvellous. I like that Miuccia Prada and her collaborator Catherine Martin haven’t been too slavish in their interpretation of period costume.
There’s something about 20s garb that showcases bone structure, a figure as streamlined as an otters, and a dazzling smile. No one shows it off better than Berenice Bejo in The Artist, a film I absolutely loved, along with another recent watch, Singin’ in the Rain, by which it was clearly influenced. The Artist has a more precise approach to the historicity of its costumes and the sets, everything seems apt as well as beautiful. But that’s one thing I love about Baz Luhrmann – he wouldn’t let a little lie get in the way of his big narrative or an aesthetic truth.
The above artwork is by Sam Knowles, a young British collage artist. I love classic Penguin book covers so the above work caught my eye when I discovered him last year. I am even more keen on other works made with found books, made fantastical with overlaid gold leaf. I particularly like ones with forest scenes or typical British backdrops, which then look like classic 1960s scifi with huge, multiple rising moons.
When I have a scrap of money I would like to start investing in an art collection, because it’s a good compromise between the majority of material objects I buy (dresses, shoes) and spending money on experiences or education, because although visual art can always be lost or destroyed, you can’t lose the experience of having seen it, thought about it, and lived with it.
On a prosaic level, if you want to introduce non-original Penguin covers into your house, you can now buy this paper from Osborne & Little. I can imagine it being a bit overwhelming as it will remind you of how many books remain unread but I like that feeling. Incredible books are one thing you can never, ever run out of, and this is probably cheaper than trying to find all the vintage Penguin classics and reading them, based on how much it will cost you to get the real thing.