Two Minds

Candice Lake for Vogue UK

Candice Lake for Teen Vogue 

Marcus Dawes for LFW Daily

The Topshop Tumblr

Cognitive dissonance is a phrase used to describe being in two minds at once – the ability to hold entirely opposing views at the same time. It’s the perfect definition of my current feelings towards London Fashion Week, and by extension to the industry in general.

I love fashion. I wouldn’t have this blog if I didn’t. I think that dressing up is magnificent, with personal style a powerful and satisfying form of creativity. It can be playful, whimsical, dramatic – whichever adjective is best suited. My friend Stella claims that: “every outfit reflects a bit of me, a piece of art that I have created.” ‘Expression’ is an over-used term, but it captures the essence of the potential found in clothes. What you wear can tell a story, convey personality (or obscure it), provide an antidote to routine and make life a touch more joyous. I have a wardrobe pregnant with velvet and tulle, seventies dresses and kilts, printed shirts and fringed tops. Hats cover every surface, jewellery drapes the dressing table and belts hang like creepers on the back of my door. My room is glutted on style, and I relish the prospect of getting dressed each morning.

I’m also entranced by those designers who elevate cutting and stitching to an art form: the late Alexander McQueen placing models in Russian princess style costumes, Mary Katrantzou enlarging a type-writer print on a cape that wouldn’t look out of place in the Bodleian library, Corrie Nielsen tailoring dresses to mimic flowers. The brilliance of fashion is demonstrated in these designs – in the colours, the structures, the narratives behind the collections. It is an industry of rich heritage – from Schiaparelli’s avant-garde creations to Chanel’s casual couture – with new innovators emerging every year.

And yet, beneath this beautifully trimmed exterior, there are elements of the fashion industry that I am less comfortable with. I’m uneasy in the knowledge that many clothes (high street and high end alike) are produced in factories where workers are exploited and rivers stained with dyes and chemicals. I have qualms over the body shape that models are expected – nay required – to conform to. I’m aware that there is something suspect in the success and celebration of a luxury market at a time when unemployment in the UK stands in the region of 2.56 million. These are brief generalisations, but typify a few of my recent multi-layered thoughts. How do I reconcile promotion of and immersion in a world I don’t always feel proud of? Can I enjoy certain aspects of the industry whilst criticizing others?

The short answer is ‘of course’. As humans we naturally hold conflicting views and are fickle in switching when suited. Opinions evolve and change. But these chattering questions became clamorous at London Fashion Week. The experience is always intense – both incredible and ever-so-slightly unsettling. As usual, I was swept away by the theatricality (which I discussed in an article for Lionheart magazine) - with the combination of collections and well-dressed attendees providing a visual feast. Bora Aksu’s show was ethereal and fairytale-like; Fyodor Golan suggested both fragility and strength in a corset of shattered porcelain; Ji Cheng’s pieces inspired by Chinese tea-brewing rituals were airy and earthy. I eyed up Pachacuti’s hats in icecream shades and stroked Junky Styling’s practical, boy scout-esque capes.

I also had fun planning what to wear – with Charlotte Taylor silk prints on one day, and a second hand Moschino floral-embroidered blazer on another. However, I left LFW feeling a little ambivalent about the nature of street style. I’ve listed a range of talented photographers before – Dvora, Vanessa, Candice and Marcus among them – whose work I value and enjoy. LFW affords the chance to dress up in the company of other people interested in aesthetics. Nonetheless, this season I realized that I subconsciously judged my outfits according to how many photographers asked to snap it. It’s a precarious point to be at, where self-worth (or at least satisfaction) is reactionary – informed by the opinions of others. I like to stress the importance of doing things for oneself, but it is easier preached than practised. The outfit pictured above roused the most attention, and as a result I felt happy with it. It has no more intrinsic worth than what I wore on the other two days, and of course style is also in the eye of the beholder, but does that mean that it stands out as being the most ‘successful’?

There has been a general cloud of chatter around street style this season, focused primarily on two criticisms: outlandishness and commercialism. The former is harder to define, as some of the best-dressed people I know are deliciously outlandish. But they are authentic – not ornamenting themselves purely for the flash of a camera. The latter, commercialism, is manifested in the showcasing of the ‘latest’ heels or the ‘hottest’ handbags on the arms of show goers. Again, I know there is a gossamer thin line to tread. I  asked to borrow a Charlotte Taylor top because I completely believe in her vision, and wished to wear one of her beautiful pieces. I received no financial compensation, and chose the cabbage pattern as being something I would want to buy and wear myself. But there has been a general shift from street style as a celebration of creativity to a further form of (often covert) advertising.

This is neither a full-blown criticism of the industry, or a defence of it at all costs. I like to challenge those who claim that fashion is frivolous or without substance, but also want to acknowledge that it is by no means a perfect business. The first step to change is discussion. I haven’t suggested any ways to rectify the issues I have raised (although I certainly hope to explore this in the future). I just wanted to air them – shake them out and hold them up in full view. 

Dress - sixties' vintage (a Christmas present), felt hat - vintage (Oxfam), chelsea boots - charity shop, socks - formerly my grandma's, pale grey long jacket - Max Mara (charity shop), belt - great grandmother's, jewelry - family hand-me-downs, small blue satchel bag - charity shop.

By the way, I finally set up a Clothes, Cameras and Coffee Facebook page - a little empty at the moment, but hopefully not for long.