Tuesday, 25 January 2011

COUTURE COUTURE COUTURE

There is something incredible about the mist in Paris, it is not depressing for me. It is romantic. I walk a long the streets with a faint smile on my lips.  It is couture week and boy have I been busy.
My top two apartments are nearly sold in the Mallet Stevens Building I live in, I am keeping the Tamara de Lempicka art studio which is heaven on earth. I had some dream of  buying bread and making a home here, which as yet, has not materialised.  That is okay because other dreams did.

I decided to go first thing to the Basquiat show. This is the star attraction in Paris at the moment. Born the same year as me, but six months later in  December of 1960, the year of the rat, he certainly rushed through his short life. Dying at 28 from a drug overdose, he completed a body of  perfect work, way ahead of its time.  Personally, I loved  it so much that I wish I had gone to the art dealer Enrico Navarra a long time ago to buy one for myself.
Sidney Finch, the public relations girl for Dior stood freezing outside waiting for me.  It was worth it.  Probably the best show of its kind, I could have stayed watching the brightly coloured paintings for hours.  My associate Enrico Navarra,  one of the only men in my life who kept his promise to me,  once gave me the wonderful job of photographing artists for the the book, "Made by Indians" four or five years ago.  has a huge collection of Basquiat's paintings.   Much later I met Enrico for a drink at The Costes Hotel and he was saying he truly thinks Basquiat was a genius, I left with two huge books that he made to prove it.

However much earlier I went to the best cafe in the Trocadero, Carette, for a bun and for some coffee, also to pick up some macaroons for my friend, Dr Jean Louis Sebagh's Mother, she adores them. Jean Louis is the famous face doctor, more famous in London than Paris, with an elite clientele.  Later to Chantal Thomas to get a corset which was incredible, cream with black lace, totally adorable, they are making me one as we speak.  I love this shop.  Rick Owen's  was my next stop, I wanted to see his fabulous collection which suits Los Angeles so well. Cool comfortable and chic.  He and his wife Michele are totally stylish.  His hair reaches his waist and she is covered with exotic tattoos, rings, studs you name it.

 I have been two hours behind all week. I am here for the couture shows and John Galliano's  for Dior  was brilliant.  Out of another century, the era of ravishing Irving Penn photographs and elegance. The show based on the beautiful illustrations of Renee Gruau. Opulent colours reds, blacks, and cream, nipped in waists and little hats and net by the creative genius Stephen Jones.

I feel I have been running and in four days have covered three countries, Los Angeles, New York, London, Paris, but you know it was worth it.  Chanel's haute couture show was very wearable, it did not come out of the pages of the past, although some felt it was too 1980's.  I just saw it with rose tinted glasses, loving the beautiful black beading on white coats, jackets and dresses.  Karl Lagerfeld, for me  is bang up to date.

By the time last night came I could barely stay awake.  It was however essential.  I was invited to Liberatum's first fashion party, and it was the party of the night. A celebration of ten years of Jefferson Hack's Another magazine.  The ravishing Betony Vernon, Suzy Menkes wearing green, Stephen Jones, Christian Louboutin, Karla Otto, Daphne Guinness, Kate Moss and Carine Roitfeld  were all there to support him for this cosy intimate dinner.
The party was the brainchild of the clever Pablo Ganguli, who was unable to be there, and the generosity of Ella Kresner.  It was held at Stresa which is the best Italian Restaurant in the world, hugely expensive and very elitist.  A true treat.  Thank you.

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