before Peter Lindbergh

The sad thing about public holidays in China is that they usually make you come in on the weekend to counter-balance the fact that you finally managed to score two extra days off work. Thankfully this Saturday, Peter Lindbergh swooped in and saved the day by giving a seminar up in UCCA along with VC, which meant we got to grab food sitting in the sun before listening to a fascinating two hour conversation between Lindbergh, Angelica, Jerome Sans, and Franca Sozzani, who just happened to drop by because she was in town. Sozzani and Lindbergh's collaboration has spanned over 20 years, and they had some hilarious and fascinating anecdotes about some of the greatest characters in the business.

On Helmut Newton; who would apparently, only ever take three snaps of anything, and when Sozzani complained about the horrible shot of the beautiful actress/model he was meant to be photographing, Newton would reply nonchalantly, without any qualms, 'but darling, she was awful'.

On Steven Meisel; 'there's only one fashion photographer for me - Steven Meisel, the others are photographers who shoot fashion'. (Franca Sozzani)

For Lindbergh therefore, it is the woman, not the fashion, which is of importance. As he said quite plainly in the talk, 'fashion is made for woman, woman is not made for fashion'. His best editorial work from the 1980s, 1990s, really showcase this as they feature women clad only in white shirts. His first cover for American Vogue in 1988, was not only a career-defining moment for Lindbergh, but eventually, as he recalls, came to signal a more seismic shift 'from rather formal women, quite perfectly styled and concerned about social integration and judgement, to more outspoken and adventurous women who controlled their own lives and were independent from masculine protection and social rules'. It is no coincidence of course, that this was also Anna Wintour's first cover for American Vogue. She had famously found Lindbergh's photographs buried in the bottom of a drawer, and saw exactly the statement she wanted to make: confident, powerful women and Christian-Lacroix-couture-with-$40-jeans.

Vogue, November 1988, by Peter Lindbergh

"make it happen"

Stefano Gabbana (l), and Domenico Dolce (r)

The term 'superstar designer' gets bandied about so much these days you forget what it was all supposed to mean in the era before fashion designers were their own celebrities. So when Mr. Dolce and Mr. Gabbana came to town a few days ago, and decided to give a live demonstration of their skills at their seminar at the Central Academy for Fine Arts, we were all definitely intrigued. The concept was simple: students would present the designers with one of their sketches and the designers would, to quote the great Tim Gunn, make it happen. Right on the spot, right there. Talk about project runway.

The process, essentially, went something like this. 1) there was a sketch presented and 2) in fifteen minutes, it was a dress.

So yes, the whole thing was held together by staples, and there was that awkward moment where I was convinced the model wasn't going to wriggle into it, but in a quarter of an hour, Mr. Dolce had taken the sketch, sans pattern, traced the outline (from somewhere in his head), cut the fabric, and in consultation with Mr. Gabbana had added some flourishes (altered the sleeves, added some very Dolce lace on the back). Then staple, staple, staple... done.

What one forgets about these truly great designers is that they are firstly, fabulous craftsmen and tailors. Whatever we think about their designs, you've got to admit that they've definitely got the skills. Much like my adored Yotsuba sushi chef, a true maestro, always makes what they do look so easy. Apologies for the awful pictures though, just couldn't bring myself to take guilt-free DSLR shots when I was supposed to be semi-working and on edge that the maestri would run out of staples...

some things old, some things new. le six

Rosamund Pike in An Education, 2009

Chloé, 1988

Chanel, F/W11

a flat boot really ought to be slouchy

'Summer Nights', Grease, 1978

There will never be a happy-clappy summer song quite like it.

le smoking

Nick Knight, Yohji Yamamato catalogue, A/W 1988-9

all the attention being paid to Yohji Yamamoto at the V&A makes me devastated that I wont be in London to see it. I might not covet his clothes for myself, but he is one of the few designers, like Maison Martin Margiela, whom I have the utmost respect for. Flicking back, this Nick Knight image is entirely seductive. The curators behind the scenes at the V&A have produced this fascinating blog about how the whole thing came together, an absolute must-read. I'm intrigued about how the 'interventions' in the other galleries will turn out. In my short-lived dream of working at an art institution, this is probably what I would have seen myself doing.

"I know. It's just fabric. But it speaks to us like a world. If it were a desert, and you a traveller, you would talk about its winds, its stars, its sun. You probably will."

- Yohji Yamamoto

recently

it's been almost a month of neglect, though i don't think I can really explain why. Maybe the evils of Chinese Twitter lured me away, but more likely it's the usual lethargy excuse, because this whole waiting-for-spring thing has made life just seem a bit lacklustre of late. Somewhere in between leaving the office at midnight and arriving home to cook myself dinner though I found an urge to give a little update. after a day of staring at words and weeks of eating all manner of spicy, oily, though admittedly tasty food, there was a surprisingly simple pleasure to be found in boiling a few vegetables. There to thoroughly enhance this enjoyment of course, were the amazing Maison Martin Margiela x Cutler & Gross sunglasses that my boss had gifted to me this very morning; what a way to ease the past fortnight of working to her European timetable....

How amazing

It's been so long I can't even remember the last time I was stunned by any editorial but as I flipped through Paris Vogue's February issue I landed on one page and actually had that rare 'wow' moment. Mario Sorrenti, Sasha, blue skies, neon yellow and pleats (please!) had combined for a blissfully non-tired 'Spring trends' look. From then on every image of Jane How's carried a veritable love-love-love mantra - definitely time for a new obsession.

Sasha and Freja by Mario Sorrenti, Vogue Paris, February 2011

Styled by Jane How

"your girl is lovely"

All these new things (job, apartment, new year) have surprisingly come together to produce an unexpected lethargy. Lots of time spent curled up on my bed watching melodramas and other things conducive to the slow decay of my brain cells. Maybe I'm sick of winter, but hermit-like tendencies can only be tolerated so far. On one of my last reclusive binges over summer, I whizzed through all the seasons of Sex and the City again, for no apparent reason and whilst watching The Way We Were this time around, it finally hit me at the ending where the original 'your girl is lovely Hubbell' moment came from. Not sure how I managed to disconnect the 'Hubbell' thing because what are the odds of having two film characters called Hubbell? Other dubious tendencies of the film aside, the last moments definitely made it for me. Also let's not forget to admire Robert Redford's pristine preppy attire. Not only do I covet his sunglasses but one of the film's assured highlights were the appearances of his perfectly-slung-over-the-shoulders jumper. On another style note, watch Sofia Coppola's The Virgin Suicides to catch Josh Hartnett with a bob. Now, that was a re-discovery well worth making.