Showing posts with label Rumours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rumours. Show all posts

Monday, January 28, 2013

The Law of Return

The Blonde Salad

What goes around, comes around. The law of Karma is never more strongly realised than in the world of fashion. This concerns me a little bit, what if Karma only relates to fashion and there is no point in all those good deeds I've been storing up like pennies in a jar in a bid to buy my way out of Perdition?
Those big floppy hats of the seventies, the ones that lent their genesis to Guy Fawkes? They are firmly back on the style barometer as the whole of Europe is keeping warm this winter under the brim of a floppy felty chapeau. 

Fringe Benefits: 
My fingers are scissor happy right now. I've had to  ask my left hand to hide the scissors so that my right hand doesn't get too trigger happy. First it was the lofty cheekboned Jessica Biel and now Michelle Obama. As I have a forehead like Frankenstein this may be one trend I just cannot sit out. 

The return of the Thin White Duke:
 Do you remember when we all  watched the finale to the Olympics and wondered where on earth David Bowie was? Well, just like Guy Fawkes, he was keeping his powder dry but with slightly better success. This month, on his 66th birthday and after a decade of silence he released a new single with the promise of a new album to follow. 

The Times
Ulyana Sergeenko, designer and fashion tsarina

Real Fur: 
Has anyone else noticed that real fur is making a pernicious creep back into fashion's fickle but open arms? Lady Gaga, Kate Moss and Catherine Zeta Jones have all recently been spotted strutting about in their newly skinned pelts. It is a debate that could go on for hours.  

My hands are up and I'm doing the happy Snoopy dance.   Rumours is being re-released today to celebrate the 35th anniversary. I love this album and when I win the lottery I plan to fly to a Swiss clinic for extreme  plastic surgery to make me look like Stevie Nicks circa 1978.
My favourite track:  You Make Loving Fun

The Charleston:
"Won't you Charleston with me?" I'll do anything that involves pearls, satin and flippy skirts, I'm sure I could even play tennis like that. Claridge's, my earthly love and future mausoleum, have organised a dance paean to the Great Gatsby and are running two hour classes from February to May.

As blog boyfriend Bryan would croon: "Same Old Scene".