Archive for February 2010
fashion inspiration: miss olivia
oh, come *on*. like you’d have got any further than the title if i’d written “fashion inspiration: olivia newton-john”. so olivia-ya-ya is not someone you tend to think of, fashionably speaking, unless you have a secret childhood yearning to be sandy from grease, complete with so-tight-she-had-to-be-sewn-in spandex pants. (did anyone else kind of really hate the message of that film, by the way? like the only way to Get The Boy and Be Cool was to turn into some kind of skin-tight cigarette-smoking minxtrel? i guess there were enough teen films before and after that saying that the only way to win at life was to just be yourself, maaaan, but it still pissed me off. possibly because i wasn’t allowed to see grease when it first came out and i first saw it many years later at the age of 13. for realz, i am so cool. anyway.)
but i want to put it out there that i think that olivia newton-john’s wardrobe deserves to be known for a little bit more than a rat’s nest of corkscrew curls and a pouty “tell me about it, stud.” she was a stylish dresser, you guys, for serious. as exhibit A, i refer you to this video. will you just look at that frock, kids, and the way her headband is invisible from the front but has this kind of cascadey thing happening at the back? and the black opaque tights? a more obvious person might have teamed that foxy dress and heels with fishnets or lace tights (especially in the early 80s) but olivia keeps it edgy with solid black .. a touch of solemnity just heightening the fabulousness of the frock. can the lady dress or what? i rest my case.
this next one, well it’s always sort of cited as the quintessential squeaky-clean-popstarlet-goes-sex video, innit. forget kylie: ONJ was years ahead. the tights! the headband worn just so! the colour combination in the first outfit, the clean white chic of the second! omg i’m having a fashion moment. and you can’t tell me dov charney doesn’t watch this scribbling down inspiration all the while.
(also, sidenote: i had forgotten how all the buff boys go off hand in hand with each other at the end! awesome. that’s got to be nearly a first in a rock video, surely?)
and then there’s this. the jumpsuit! the batshit crazy lyrics! i *loved* this movie, i had the tape and i practically wore it out. oh how i wanted to be kira, good at rollerskating and blonde, probably because in real life i am neither of those things, hee ..
(i tried and failed to take a screen shot of the jumpsuit but seriously, didn’t happen. this is from another HD version on youtube and dayum, this outfit is pretty good too. sequin strange half-leggings-half-harem-pants arrangement! yes and yes.)
anyway. from the excess of squealing (and hyphens) in this post, you may gather that ninetwelvetwentyfive is a big fan of olivia newton-john in her 80s starlet incarnation. forget grease, forget the laura-ashley-style frocks of the “i honestly love you” era: this is olivia at her fabulous best. now if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to try and get my hair to behave like that. it may take some straightening irons and enough elnett to choke an elephant, but dear *god* i’m going to try.
(all photos screenshots courtesy of youtube. obv.)
also, because it’s important:
(image from harpers bazaar)
rip, alexander mcqueen. i’m sad to hear about this, of course i am. he was a unique and sparkling talent, a visionary. the only upside i can think of is the extraordinary body of work he left behind. aimee mullins and her carved legs. a perfect white dress spray-painted by robots.
others will write better tributes, obviously. but i just wanted to leave this image. philip treacy and alexander mcqueen, two enormous figures in british fashion, creating something so utterly perfect it takes my breath away.
the wellington sevens: a fashion report
in case you are not a wellingtonian or a new zealander (or, i guess, a rugby fan, tho i’m guessing not many of you who visit here will be) you might not know that once a year wellington hosts the irb rugby sevens tour. the rugby almost seems like an afterthought, though. it’s the party that matters. people dress up in fancy dress, and *boy* do they dress up. a lot of care, imagination and thought goes into the costumes, which are then often trashed by two days and nights of drinking and debauchery. this year norman jay played in courtenay place and he said it was the best street party he’d played since the notting hill carnival.
anyway. i decided it was better to leave my fancy cameras at home this year. but i did manage to snap a few pix of the revellers:
(these guys were dressed like giant crabs. or maybe crayfish. the iphone’s weeny lens couldn’t cope, so it turned out this rather abstract shot instead .. but i still like it.)
(it also didn’t much like the strobe lights at norman jay. but, happy accidents, etc.)
so, fashion report.
the most popular costume: angels/fairies. male and female. actually, probably more male than female. take from that (and new zealand’s oft-quoted maxim of where-men-are-men-and-sheep-are-nervous) what you will.
the best costume: well, my personal favourite were the video-game-inspired groups. people dressed up as tetris shapes. as pac-man plus ghosts. as the mario brothers (there were many, but i never get sick of them).
what i would have gone as, had i been so inclined: a pox on these costumes for women that seem to involve the word “sexy” automatically; sexy nurse, sexy policewoman, sexy traffic warden, sexy rugby ref, etc. i’d personally love to be part of a phalanx of anna wintours. or karl lagerfelds. that would rule.
what i felt was sorely lacking: where were the pregnant schoolgirls? or the local order of the sisters of perpetual indulgence? personally i don’t think any party’s complete without them.
the sevens party is clearly not about fashion in the strict sense. but for two days a year, wellingtonians get to let it all hang out. wear whatever they want, no matter how ridiculous. act however they want, no matter how outrageous. grown men get to embrace each other and grab each other’s bums etc in shows of affection which border on the homoerotic. it’s fantastic. and then, monday morning .. it was as if nothing had happened. the streets were clean, the sunlight was bright, the crowds lurching off to work dressed in black and grey and navy. because, after all, wellington may host a great party .. but at the end, it’s still wellington. and we love her for it.
