Still banging on about Jaeger

It was Hilary Alexander who first persuaded me to go and take a look, 18 months ago, and now half my wardrobe is full of the stuff (in the group portrait in the V&A Library, I'm wearing their snake skin print fringed top)

Jaeger has established itself as one of Mrs Brown's favourite brands, and in wearing it she has placed herself in fashion-savvy company. Alexa Chung, Fearne Cotton and Erin O'Connor all have pieces from Jaeger London's current collection.There is a delicious irony in the fact that this once-moribund brand can simultaneously transmit to the fashion antennae of a rock star's teenage daughters, the Prime Minister's wife and a septuagenarian diva. It is proof that when a brand gets it right, it can bestride the generation gap as if it were a supermodel in spike-heeled, seven-league boots.

There was a waiting list for the long-hair shearling coat, which anticipates next spring's passion for fringing, and which Meg Mathews has bagged, as well as for the gilt-buttoned coat-dress snapped up by Lisa Snowdon.

At the Jaeger London catwalk show earlier that week, Shirley Bassey sat front row in a black lace dress by the label. Perched a few seats down were Lizzie Jagger and her sister, Georgia May - both perfect contenders for its clubby, stretch snake-print leggings.

It has done this by pinpointing different attitudes to dressing and creating attuned collections. Jaeger London is the fashion-forward collection. Jaeger Black has semi-couture hand-finished pieces, with quality trims such as mother-of-pearl buttons. Jaeger Collection falls between the two, with contemporary looks that update the brand's classic DNA.

Large woman + Puccini

Hilary Alexander at the Telegraph has a piece and video about Marina Rinaldi, the larger size label of MaxMara. They have a shop on Bond Street and go from UK size 12 - 26, but as this shoot demonstrates, and as I have noted whenever I have tried anything on, they tend to design for the tall and voluptuous rather than the narrow shouldered, and big-hipped.

Where are the photos?

Where indeed? No press photographers were allowed at the ceremony at the Guildhall, that's why you had the frankly terrifying photo call that lunchtime, with 50 snappers shouting at you, 'over 'ere, no, 'ere.'

Responsibility for recording the event fell then to my nephew who had been given his girlfriend's camera. Unfortunately she had forgotten to charge the battery.

Champagne reception from 7 pm. Best dressed woman beyond a doubt was the wife of fellow shortlisted author Steve Toltz who looked as though she should be pacing the catwalk in Sydney. Slightly, to say the least, younger, taller and thinner than me, she looked sensational. What a dress! Long-sleeved, bias cut, and an Oz designer too, she told me. But best dressed person was Hardip Singh Koli, the Glaswegian Sikh Booker judge who wore a pink turban with a kilt.

The food was fantastic, though I couldn't eat much, and the table two along was the one I really wanted to be at, former winners and shortlisted authors, who hasd all the fun and none of the tension. Congratulations to Aravind Adiga who did won. I have read his novel The White Tiger, and I can strongly recommend it as a shocking portrait of contemporary India done with both wit and rage.

Then we all scrambled into cars and hit the Groucho Club for the after parties.

Some thank yous: to Avsh Alom Gur at Ossie Clark for the dress, Mary Greenwell for the make-up, Anya Hindmarch (personally, for the emails of support,) and her staff for the evening bag, Susie Boyt for the diamond bracelet (!) George Szirtes and Clarissa Upchurch for the flowers and Yan and Rosita also for the flowers.

And to my fellow shortlisted authors, particularly Sebastian Barry who knows it was a close thing.

And to my readers here for cheering me on.

A Swell Party

Harry would once again like to congratulate The Thoughtful Dresser . Getting to the shortlist was fantastic. Getting the USA publishing deal is obviously a great outcome.
And the party was pretty good too ( English understatement). So I’d like to say a big thankyou for that.
Of course the star of the party was elsewhere until the awards ceremony was over. But when Linda finally arrived there was spontaneous applause. Although I suppose it could have been for the frock.

During the party I took the air on Dean Street and I chanced upon a short chap with a leggy young woman on each arm ambling along the pavement. I thought for a brief moment that it might be Wayne Rooney ( extremely gifted , but not the most handsome footballer on the planet), but as he got closer I realised it was Alexander McQueen. Harry didn’t think he was particularly well turned out. I think your average footballer would have made more effort.



The high point of the evening for me was being asked by someone if I was Antony Beevor. Shortly after that I was asked by someone else if I was Harry Fenton.
I was , of course, entirely delighted to meet her, and several other charming readers of this blog.

Apologies are due for me not posting this earlier.
Last night I was MC for an evening of words and music celebrating the wit, wisdom, and sheer genius of Robert Zimmerman. And , as one of the co-organisers of the show, had my work cut out during the day . But the polka dot shirt made all the difference on the night. Not worn by me you understand.
I was trying to look like Tyler Brulee.

The Clothes On Their Backs US publication update

Published 26 November. Amazon pre-order here

How it all panned out

Still no party dress shot

Thanks to all of you who offered your best wishes for last night. I didn't win, it was always a one in six chance, but on one index, I was the outright winner. I was the only shortlisted author to have walked away with a free Ossie Clark dress. Oh, and we all got a cheque for £2500 just for being shortlisted

In the afternoon Mary Greenwell did my make-up, and obviously I now understand that there's a bit more to it than I'd thought. Do you want red carpet makeup she asked me? No, I said. Yes, you do, she replied firmly.

She emails me to say that she would like to recommend to readers some products which she used on me:

Radiant Immediate Lift by Sisley. The foundation was Suqqu cream foundation in colour 02 available from Selfridges .This is my new fave product of ALL TIME Under eye lift by Dior skinflash in colour 1 .
Powder Armarni pressed powder in transperant

At the after party, Harry was very amused to find several people accosting him and asking him if he was Harry Fenton. Though one regular reader said she had imagined him more like Tyer Brulee.

UPDATE It now turns out Harry thinks he does look like Tyler Brulee. He does in the same way that I bear a close resemblance to Gwyneth Paltrow (see picture above)

Tonight I will be wearing

The shortlisted authors, yesterday at the V&A Library

This dress, (thank you, Avsh Alom), with a gold, labradorite and jade necklace, a gold python clutch from SS09 loaned by Anya Hindmarch, and jewelled Christian Louboutin shoes.

I'd love to show you pics of all the accessories but I can't find the cable that connects the camera to the computer

All the shortlisted authors spent quite a bit of time together yesterday and I shall be happy if any of them take the prize (Man PLC which sponsors it and coughs up the £50k is a hedge fund, so we might want it in gold bullion, to be on the safe side.) But all things being equal, based on the readings we did last night at the South Bank, I'd give it to Steve Toltz for one of the best descriptions of Jewish hypochondria I've ever heard.

And to all of you who have sent good wishes and good luck for tonight, thank you. We'll be partying until the small hours at the Groucho Club afterwards, so don't expect reports on the event too early tomorrow.

Man in a grey suit says don't panic!

comments

stephenmoss

Oct 10 08, 12:08pm (48 minutes ago)
Staff Staff writer

Freepoland's suggestion that we forget money and think about poetry was, presumably, a joke, so it's wonderfully synchronous that, in the UBS clip posted above, the bank's basso profundo economics spokesman Paul Donovan does exactly that – with the UBS global economics department's own version of Rudyard Kipling's "If".

Shares in Kipling have soared following the UBS podcast, reaching $12 a simile in Far Eastern markets. Rupert Brooke is looking strong in the light of many likely casualties in foreign fields. Philip Larkin is selling well in the belief that we will all be utterly depressed and living in Mr Bleaney-style bedsits in a month or two. A lot of investors are putting their faith in poetic gold – Shakespeare, Milton, Donne, Marvell – whose values are unlikely to be shaken in these testing times. But Victorian derivatives are doing badly, and stock in Tennyson is now reckoned to be almost worthless. Henry Paulson is expected to make a statement on iambic pentameters later in the day.

Woman in a pink suit gets a few things off her chest

Judgement call

Inevitably, I am drawn to study this interview with one of the Man Booker Prize judges about her fashion life:

If you could steal the wardrobe of anyone - past or present, fictional or real - whose would it be?
Would it be boring to say Audrey Hepburn? But I would also have to steal her cheekbones.

If you could change one part of your body, which would it be?
My legs. I can't wear knee-length skirts unless I'm wearing knee-high boots.

What are your five desert island staples?
Apart from wrap dresses; knee-high boots, lipsticks, body scrub, a sense of humour and my hairdresser.

A Fragrance For Our Times?

(perhaps not this one)

Harry ponders perfumery.
Some years ago I used to visit a client with headquarters just outside Geneva. They shared their location with a sister company who were , and still are, in the business of flavours and fragrances.
In the reception area were a number of glass display cases. And in some of these were giant flagons of perfume. With names even I recognised. Over lunch one day in the director’s dining room ( very fresh and healthy Swiss cuisine and only Swiss wines) I enquired about this side of the business. I was fascinated to learn that in this huge plant fine perfumes were indeed created in large volumes.
I have scanned their current annual report and have found the following list of new products: L’Oreal: Ralph Wild by Ralph Lauren
LVMH: Vivara by Pucci• My Insolence by Guerlain
P&G: Rock’n Rose by Valentino
Puig: Infusion d’Iris by Prada
Men’s Fragrances
Coty: Pure Energy by Adidas
Estee Lauder: Unforgivable Multi Platinum by Sean John
LVMH: Fahrenheit 32 by Christian Dior
Liz Claiborne: Juicy Couture




But I was also told that the majority of the company’s fragrance business was in a far less glamorous sector. All those pine –fresh and alpine and lemony and citrussy and whatever smells that go into so many domestic products. Each one would be separately commissioned and sourced for any number of global companies.
But I was then told , much to my amusement ,that one fragrance the company was particularly proud of was ‘new car smell’. That unmistakeable (and actually quite exciting ) aroma you get from a pristine vehicle had in fact been synthesised and was now marketed successfully to used car dealers around the world.
Who says business lacks imagination and creativity?
Anyhow, I think this product of theirs will be going from strength to strength in the foreseeable future.

( The Citroen DS. When the future looked stylish. And fragrant. )

Fashion: The end (for the moment)

Sarah Mower in the Telegraph

Amazingly, the one thing almost no one in Paris and Milan had applied themselves to is how to make pragmatic, smart, uplifting daywear for someone who goes about her business in a city. Dries van Noten, with his accessible, silky, graphically rational system of dressing, was the only designer in Paris to win universal applause from both press and buyers on that score - and he's a Belgian.

And now I've limped home and reviewed the 148 shows I've seen for next spring/summer, it strikes me that I want nothing to do with anything that's going to be touted as a mainstream fashion trend. In that sense, yep, fashion's over.

If I'm going to spend, it will be on things whose value I calculate in terms of love+price+longevity; stuff I know will still be valid two or three years hence. I would much rather spend money on something that is not an obvious part of a big-brand operation. Oh, and I won't be bothering with passing novelties that turn out to be one-wear disasters: jumpsuits, that means you.

I'm convinced that's the mentality most women will be applying to fashion next year, if not already. I'm only likely to be tempted now by fantastically well-thought-out elements of urban elegance, or things that deliver surprise and delight in a delicious package of usefulness. And when I check back over the season, I find that it's London's designers - usually marginalised as infant crazies or unrealistic fantasists - who have had the clarity to come up with all that.

In the confusion that's reigned over the season, our British-based community of designers (and I include people who show in New York and Paris) pitched things so excellently that their collections stand up incredibly well against much bigger international labels whose shows lurched all over the place.

Chocolate: a short announcement

One of my regular readers sells chocolate for a living. A hard, hard life. And in a recession do you want to see this poor working woman lose her livelihood? No!

Well go and sign up to her newsletter and buy some mail order chocolate. We've all got to do our bit to keep the economy going.

And here is a short educational film on the subject of choconomics.

Support the economy during British Chocolate Week

Male model

Vuitton's new 78-year-old male model

An up-side to the banking crisis?

Harry poses a question.
Like many others the world over I have been mesmerised by the news over the last few weeks. News that keeps telling me , amongst other things, that the nest egg I amassed from all my years at the coal –face has been reducing on a daily basis.
This isn’t the forum to lament one’s personal lot.
But perhaps it is a forum in which I can admit to my detestation of bankers and financiers. And to the sway they have held over our consciousness for the last few years.
Deregulation of financial services in the eighties resulted in all those things we have become familiar with: obscenely high salaries and bonuses, sharp practice, and an end to probity and a celebration of avarice.
‘The City’ ( which is London shorthand but I refer globally) achieved such a critical mass in terms of its influence on the way we live ( the economy , stupid) that the axis of aspiration seemed to shift. And the cars and the houses and the restaurants and the resorts all seemed to be chasing the city dollar. Designed for them and priced for them. Macho, tasteless, and soulless. ( Dubai anyone?)
And so did fashion. Certainly for men.
There has been conformity in their avaricious behaviour and conformity in the way they dress.
I know this because every smart , formal shirt seems to be designed for a financier. Because you can’t get a tab collar shirt anywhere. Why not? Perhaps because a tab collar is just a bit too fancy/ racy/ retro/ non-conformist.
But back in the day you could choose a shirt by the fabric, the cut ( short or long tail included in the list of options) and the collar. But for the last twenty years the collars have all been city style. Just walk down Jermyn Street, (the street of shirts): T M Lewin, Hiditch and Key, Turnbull and Asser; and the upstarts Hackett and Tyrwhitt. Not a tab collar in sight.
Maybe now, collectively , we will get over our fixation with the money men and people will stop assuming that us blokes want to look like them. From this day on they are no longer the icons that they were.
Those ghastly cut-away collars and silly silk knots as cuff-links will now be seen as the uniform of the shyster.

Short selling finally explained

Short selling is like borrowing a pound of tea while the price is say, $5 per pound and selling it at that price. Then when the price drops to $3, you pay the current price to the person you "borrowed" it from, netting $2.

Thank you deja pseu.

And here I will add the football 'offside rule', explained:

You're in a shoe shop, second in the queue for the till. Behind the shop assistant on the till is a pair of shoes which you have seen and which you must have.

The 'opposing' female shopper in front of you has seen them also and is eyeing them with desire.

Both of you have forgotten your purses.

It would be totally rude to push in front of the first woman if you had no money to pay for the shoes.

The shop assistant remains at the till waiting.

Your friend is trying on another pair of shoes at the back of the shop and sees your dilemma.

She prepares to throw her purse to you.

If she does so, you can catch the purse, then walk round the other shopper and buy the shoes.

At a pinch she could throw the purse ahead of the other shopper and, *whilst it is in flight* you could nip around the other shopper,
catch the purse and buy the shoes.

Always remembering that until the purse had *actually been thrown* it would be plain wrong to be forward of the other shopper.

Machismo

My friend Eamonn over at his blog makes the following interesting point:

We went the Korean national day do at the embassy on Friday night. It was my first time at such an event and something that struck me was the huge difference between what was being worn by males like me; black shoes, nondescript dark jacket, shirt and tie, or a dull suit, and what the numerous military attaches present were wearing; yards of gold cord, racks of multicolured medal badges, rows of shining military speciality pins, loads of trousers with brightly coloured stripes down the sides etc etc.

Could it be that they, having proven their invincible heterosexuality by being in the military, can feel relaxed in gear like this, while the rest of us want to prove how hard we are by rejecting foppish display?

Pleasure

Shares in my bank fell by 40 per cent on the markets yesterday, so I could lose everything - my whole overdraft. God only knows what the hell is going on with the economy, someone sent me an easy-to-understand summary of short selling: I gave up after the second sentence. However, something seems to be up with capitalism and where's it all going to end?

Yesterday I was on the way to Rigby and Peller to be fitted for the bra to go with my my Booker dress and walking through Mayfair, down Conduit Street and past Vivienne Westwood, Donna Karan could not help but wonder if this was it, the end of the life we've known, and in a year's time would I walk that same street and see boarded up shops, beggars, soup kitchens?

By disposition I prefer pleasure to self-sacrifice, hope to pessimism and despair. I took comfort in the fact that I have a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes to see me through the Great Slump. I had a bit of time to kill before my bra fitting appointment and I stepped into the Mille Harris shop and tearoom. As every fule no, in a recession lipstick sales increase, as women buy a low cost item to cheer themselves up. I spent a delicious half hour in Miller Harris drinking a fragrant cup of her own handblended tea, eating a lemon shortbread biscuit and browsing through the magazines before inhaling a divine sniff of expensive scent. It cost me a fiver and if I'd had time I would have stayed there for an hour.

And this is how to get through the times that lie ahead. Find small pleasures, anything to cheer ourselves up. We are going to need all the pleasure we can get.

And not long after it was explained to me that alhough I am 57 years old, I do not know how to put on a bra.

Credit crunch movies

In the real world

Last night I did the military trend, a tunicky black coat dress with double-breasted gold buttons, so I'm all ready to go and invade somewhere.

Jess Cartner-Morley explains how actual people wear the trends on the catwalk. Here is Paris:

So far as there is a "look" to be derived from this week's shows, it goes something like this. It focuses on the shape of the torso and the shoulders: often a corsetted waist and ribs, contrasted with pointy, vaguely sci-fi shoulders. Sometimes there are straps tracing the lines of the ribs or looped in faintly fetishistic multiples around the shoulders. At Givenchy, the look was less gothic than last season, and more glam rock - that'll be the leather trousers with flame detailing along the thigh - but the intense, angular, skinny, black aesthetic remains essentially unchanged. At Stella, black bands were wrapped bandage-tight, in the style made famous by Azzedine Alaïa.
. . .

Don't panic. We are not actually going to be wearing this. I know, because all week I've been watching what the French fashion editors wear. When they want to do a bit of a strappy thing, they wear a top with loose, draped straps (Vanessa Bruno does a good line in these) under a black jacket with pointy shoulders and maybe even a hem that points down at the front. They wear this with slim trousers and heels, or a short skirt and long boots. Often the finishing touch is a thin scarf wound around the neck, and there you have it: the same elegant-edgy, strappy-black thing without looking like a science-fiction prostitute. Alternatively, if they want to channel a bit of a Victorian dummy silhouette, they go with a tightly belted jacket over a very short, very full skirt, worn with ankle boots - this gives the same abrupt-looking, jagged silhouette.

These straps and silhouettes, however, don't really make a trend by themselves. In Paris, as in the other fashion cities, this season of shows has failed to produce one headline-making, soundbite-friendly major trend: no Boho, no 60s. There was no consensus. But perhaps we don't need one. To allow Karl Lagerfeld, appropriately enough, the last word: "As long as you agree with yourself, that's enough - non?

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