Again, to whomever may be reading this, I’m totes sorry for the infrequency of my posting. Surprisingly, after having cut my hours at work, life as a university student has really picked up. I mean, with all the American Dad I’ve been watching (obvi the most underrated animated show), the pretentious images I’ve been reblogging, and the hipster music I’ve been dancing to on my chair, I’m like totes busy. Like, seriously super busy. Like if you don’t get how busy, tired and exhausted I am, there’s def something wrong with you. Like, majorly wrong.
Clearly, I’ve been getting my Valley-Girl-speaking First-Year McGill kid on, and man do my stack of readings hate me.
Alas, ain’t nobody got time for them readings, especially when so much fun can be had quoting Interwebz pop culture, and also staring mindlessly at a computer screen while watching runway images flash in front of your eyes (almost as if it were live, almost).
Remember people, I’m sew busy.
So like, holy fucking shit does Neil Barrett get me and my infatuation with anything camel. This collection struck such a materialistic chord with me that I already know this collection will forever be indelible in my fashun-loving mind just because of how many damn variations on a single bewitching trend it included. I mean come on people, I’ve legit been waiting years for someone to recreate the camel-tinted rich luxe vibes that both Phoebe Philo and Hannah MacGibbon masterfully created a couple of seasons ago at Céline and Chloé, respectively. Thankfully, Neil Barrett was able to accomplish just that, and even more (if not I wouldn’t be writing this fan-girl message in his honour, #leduh). Though I’ve never really been the biggest fan of his designs, for me, this collection truly established and cemented Neil Barrett’s position on my radar as a preeminent designer that totes gets me. His garments possess a nonchalant wearability that certainly doesn’t compromise the exquisite construction and contemporary fit that characterizes them. It’s sorta like a mix between Zara Black Label and Club Monaco, except it’s really fucking expensive, and therefore totes covetable. Ahhh, though I name-droppingly digress, look at those damn camel coats.
To be blunt, I honestly have no idea what the hell this collection is. Despite the fact that, season-after-season, Carven has been doing the impossible by satisfying my seemingly insatiable need for the quintessential aloof flair au parisien, Guillaume Henry did the unthinkable with this collection. It truly is cray how two normal words that, on their own have no dramatic significance, yet when juxtaposed in a ghastly manner have the veritably lurid power to make me reconsider everything that I consider “right” in this triste world: man capris. Yes, you read right: man motherfucking capris. Like, what the hell Guillaume? Since when did we need a reintroduction to the fashun horror that are not-quite-shorts-but-still-not-pants capris? Since when is a man keeping one quarter of his legs exposed during the summer heat practical? Since when is a man showing one damn quarter of his legs remotely appealing to any one? Since when did wearing a bloody 90s nightmare become fashunable? Though many would disagree with that last rhetorical statement, it was rhetorical, so I don’t care. Capris have never belonged on anyone’s legs, yet alone in 2013 of all years. Instead, they belong in a metal garbage can that has been lit on fire in the torrid pits of Hell with jeggings, crocs, and all the other horrendous shit of the sort. On a more positive, less melodramatic note, someone please buy me a Carven parka for next winter.
Clearly, Kris Van Assche gets it: the art of making a fashion statement, without really giving a shit if anyone notices. The perfect example? His hybrid blazer-cum-sweatershit-cum-blazer-once-again that he presented in many a gorge variation. Though I don’t really see myself wearing all that many of the clothes presented in this collection, I would still calcutt-a-bitch for that opening look (even if that means using a joke twice in one post)(even if that means stealing said joke from New Girl)(even if that means said joke were from Schmidt). All shitty jokes aside though, this collection was a true testament to KVA’s impeccable technique and design. I mean, it certainly isn’t everyday that you see a dress-shirt fusioned with like 5 other button-downs, and the all “fashun melded” with a sweatshirt. That takes a shit-ton of skill to make, and equally a shit-ton of money to buy. Unfortunately, I have neither, so a picture will have to suffice.
The first time I heard this track in Kingdom’s excellent Clubposite mix for Dis Magazine, I instantly knew that this song just had to be the latest piece in my rapidly-growing list of “ma jams“. With the blissful summer-longing vibez this track rouses deep inside your winter-hating essence, it clearly was impossible for me to not fall in love it. All I need now is for winter to gtfo, for spring to make a super short but much appreciated apperance, and for summer to envelop me in its fervent warmth. Forever and ever, or until I get sick of the bloody Humidex.
Clearly, this whole “snow all over the damn place” thing is not for me.