Santa can you hear me?

December is approaching fast and that means two things:

One, we should most certainly not  ignore the coming cold and dress wherever we feel most fabulous in. Even if that means you will be likely to suffer from chronic goose bumps. And two, both Christmas and the Dutch holiday Sinterklaas (which is basically the same as Christmas but then early December. Yes - we get presents two times that month.) are getting closer and we need to start making our wish-lists.

I've always liked the day after Christmas the most. Normally, people get their presents in the morning on the 25th of December. However, as the Dutch also celebrate Christmas Eve on the night of the 24th, my family has always given each other our gifts during dinner that evening. The morning after, I would always order my presents in the most precious way, giving each and one of them the same amount of attention and love. The rest of the day I would simply lie on my belly on the floor and gasp at the precious little things that I had wished for so long and that I could now count as parts of my wardrobe. I would think of combinations with my cool Adidas sneakers, come up with occasions to which I could wear my amazing soft skinned leather jacket, and I would create the coolest looks in my head with a long wished for purple (I know, don't blame me.) pair of jeans. Being thirteen, those were the days.

However, being nearly ten years older today, I don't think things have changed so much. Let me explain.

Although I don't live in my parents house anymore, I share an apartment with three friends in the heart of Amsterdam. We each have our own bedroom and share one big dining/chill out spot and other necessities in the house (such as the kitchen, bathroom, laundry room etc). My bedroom is a mix and match of all things pretty and it is often called 'the treasure palace' by my flatmates or friends. That means, it might look a bit full at first, it's filled with precious little treasures that each have a special story and are placed where they are placed with a reason. My Moschino belt, for instance. It swings on a little hook inside my closet, so that every morning when I open it to pick out my look for the day, I start off with a smile. My vintage Dior purse hangs next to my necklaces, so that when I choose my jewellery in the morning, I get a glimpse of that timeless piece of work. (I've written an entire post ("fashion environment") about the likes and unlikes of my treasure palace a couple months ago, and perhaps it's best you read that in case you've gotten curious to what my room looks like...)

My shoes used to be stored in sight too, although I have a perfectly fine working storage box under my bed. I used to order my shoes in there once in a while, so that when I rolled the box from under the bed, I could take a look at all my lovely boots and sandals, heels and wedges, and all other footwear lined up one by one, smiling and winking at me. You might know this already too, because this was also one of my previous blog posts ("making excushoes").

However, most of the time my shoes are lying somewhere in my room, so that I don't forget to wear certain pairs and that I can take a look at them whenever I feel a little depressed by the winter's cold. It does make my bedroom look rather messy and, well, also quite full. And thus my mum came with the perfect solution, resulting in a deja-vu from that morning-after-Christmas: she bought me a shoe rack.

As soon as I received the rack I was too excited to think of anything else. I immediately placed all my shoes on it, playing with different textures and colours lined next to each other. It showcases my most amazing shoes; varying from mustard suede clog like wedges to insanely high, black leather booties (lovingly called my "porn boots" by friend F.) and my latest crushes: half black snake skin (front) and half black suede (back) ankle wedges with sturdy rubber soles. I switched the shoes around, squeezed a couple more pairs in, and after finding the perfect order, I sank down to the floor, sat in what we Dutch call the "kleermakerszit" (referring to the way tailors used to sit; just google it.), and stared at my shoe rack in utter devotion and admiration. For 45 minutes straight. Without winking one single time. Then my flatmate stormed in, rudely waking me out of my peaceful trance, only to make me realize it wasn't Christmas yet and reminding me more racks would be crucial if Santa would decide to send me some shoebox sized presents this year...

Love it!

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They say the owner looks after the dog...

A little less than a month ago, my family and I had to make the terrible decision of putting our beloved dog J. down. She certainly was the most special animal I have ever come across, reading your mind like no other, trying her very best to act as human as possible, and with her smile and funny habits she always made us experience a warm feeling of love. They say that after a while the owner starts looking after the dog, that they start resembling eachother, but I think that in our case it was just the other way around. Our baby J. wanted to be like my family so much, that she started to develop a serious interest in fashion.

I have always been obsessed with the world of outfits, looks and fabrics, but this didn't come as a surprise for my parents. With my granddad running a high class boutique that was known all over Holland and sold exclusive Celine's, Dior's and Ferragamo's – to name a few – and was able to count the Dutch Royal family as one of his clients, it was inevitable for me to end up intrigued by the wonderful world of fashion. Obviously my mum also has a flawless sense of style, but even my brother and – yes – even my dad is a true fashion addict. It's not unusual that we end up shopping an entire day as a family, and although my brother and dad have other ways of showing their interest, they both very much know how to appreciate a good pair of shoes, a nice classic coat or a cool watch. Even my dads shirts alone are ranged by colour and count at least 200 ones. Therefore I think our dog J. was definitely inspired by our love for the world of clothing, and so it came that one day when my bro and I were dressing her up, we noticed that she absolutely loved it. Note that she is not the usual dog that you've seen in clothes, like a chihuahua for instance. She was not the dog that would show her love of fashion outside the house, wearing little dresses on her walks, but she surely liked playing around with it. J. was a true huntersdog, a Welsh Springer Spaniel, a cutie and super goodlooking, but she always played it cool.

She was very particular though. She loved wearing my Ray Bans, but no way she would wear my cheap Primark sunnies. She couldn't get enough of my brothers baseball coat, but she despised my old H&M trench. She liked the handmade scarf from Egypt wrapped around her head, looking like a sophisticated Audrey H., or have my fave flowery headband on, and look as arrogant as one of the Gossip Girls. I've often wondered whether she liked chasing rabbits so much because of their delicious bite, or their delicious furry feel.

She was a crazy one, our baby J. And I am sure that wherever she is now, she's the number one star of the doggies runway show and loving every minute of it.

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Fashion Fairy Godmother

My mum has a lot of different friends. Most of them live in our hometown, a little town close to The Hague, where the parliament of the Netherlands is seated. Others live in Athens, Lausanne, Turkey or in Paris. 'La Parisiene' has just moved back to The Netherlands, and with that, so has her closet. 

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Last weekend I was at my parents house for my dads return from a long businesstrip. At dinner my mum informed me about the fact that her friend M. had moved in her new house and - when I was about to take a bite - that she was cleaning out her closet. I freezed. My fork hung still in the air in front of my open mouth for a minute as I stared at her with awe. She kept on eating. After I realized my chin had nearly dropped onto the table, I quickly took a bite, but almost choked. Both my dad, my mum and my brother were now staring at me, as I was bright red and coughing and hiccuping like a wounded wolf. Not caused by lack of cooking skills that I unfortunately inherited from this part of the family, simply because the news that my mum had just thrown on our dinner table as if it was nothing, was enough to make my heart miss a couple beats and to let my blood pressure raise within seconds to heights it had never been before. 

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"Why don't you call her," my mum asked, still a little surprised by my performance at the dinner table, "and ask her if you can come over to see what's she's doing with all of her things?" Before I tell you all about the phone call, let me first enlighten you with why my dinner had been so rudely disturbed by my bodies severe attack. Friend M. is a very nice friend of my mums. Although I've only met her a couple of times, I know she dresses in the most amazing long - but tailored - open cutted beet red suede coats, carrying creamy Chanels, and wearing luscious Prada boots. Not tacky, vulgar or trivial at all, no no, friend M. always looks as if she just stepped out of her gorgeous car, with her gorgeous purse after a long shopping weekend away with her - ofcourse - gorgeous husband. Can you expect anything else than immaculate taste from someone who's spent years in London and Paris? Anyhow, perhaps now you understand why I was so anxious seeing what she would do with all the things that were either too last season or just not her taste anymore. So I made 'the call'. She was ever so kind, and invited me over for coffee the next morning. Like a child who's too excited to sleep the night before his birthday, I felt tempted to jump on my bed and bounce around. After the first jump however, I became a bit too self conscious and quickly looked around my door post to see if anyone had heard or seen me. 

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After a night of wild dreams about - what else - a supermarket filled with Perfect Pradas, Gorgeous Gucci, Classic Chanels and Mindblowing Missonis, I woke up all sweaty and heavily breathing. I don't say this too often, because it you would mean you'd really impressed me; but what a night! After a quick coffee (not the best idea as I suppose I could've gone for days without caffeine on the thought of where I was heading in 30 minutes...), I went to friend M.'s place. She opened the door looking more stunning than ever; this woman, after having two children who are now nearly my age, stood in the dooropening in a tight pair of jeans, unbelievably high (another thing I don't say very often) wedged sandals, the perfect white silk blouse and a gorgeous long turquoise and blue knitted cardigan. Finishing touch: humble Chanel hangers in both ears, a necklace that I have too (but mine's fake), and cute gold Vuitton bracelets, very elegant, very simple. My head tilted a bit to the right, I smiled with content and quickly came to senses when she started speaking to me. 

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"I have tons of Chanels and you are always welcome to borrow any of them"

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After another coffee (yup. Welcome ADHD, nice to meet you. (huh?)), in the lounge (LV cityguide on the table!) we went up the stairs, to her heavenly kingdom. A kingdom where money doesn't set the rules, but fashion freedom that had arrived from Rue Cambon, Avenue des Champs-Élysées, Brompton Road, Rodeo Drive, Via Montenapoleone, Calle de Serrano and 5th Avenue. "As you probably understand", she started, "I have a daughter of about the same age as you, and she's developing a serious handbag addiction. So if you don't mind I'll keep the bags, but I have tons of Chanels, and you are always welcome to borrow any of them." Funny, as I write down what she literally said, I notice this may sound spoiled to you, but the way she said it, it was just a very generous offer from one fashion addict to the other. Or perhaps my brain was a bit blurred and foggy because of the treasures that lay in front of me. "Pick anything you like," she said, pointing at a corner in her walk-in-room (That's right, a walk-in-room. Not a walk-in-closet.) that had neat little piles of clothes, a couple jackets on hangers, some bags, some shoes and some accessories all carefully picked and put together. I felt a bit uneasy and very, very greedy, but my curiosity won. I tried on Pucci blazers, Gucci sandals, and dresses with black laced tops and satin bottoms. I looked at myself in the mirror walking with Louis Vuitton bags, with Prada purses and in Missoni jumpers. I stared at Dior belts around my waist, Chanel earrings in my ears and perfect pearls around my neck. “I am so glad that I can make someone who's interested in fashion happy,” she cried enthusiastically. “I know! Me too!” I cried back. “And I'm serious, if you ever like to borrow one of my Chanels,” she continued “just call me, don't worry, I like my things to be worn. I also have a marvelous Marc Jacobs dress, and very cool Chanel earrings with huge golden fives in it.” 

Pretty Pucci has captured my heart years ago 

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After I came home with two bags filled with fab finds, I sunk into the couch and sighed. Wheter God exists or not, I do know that I very much like Fashion Fairy Godmothers. And I know that if I work real hard, I can be a Fashion Fairy Godmother to one of my friends daughters someday as well. Can't wait... BbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbLABLABLABLA

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aujourd'hui: voici Paris!

Recently I went back to my home town The Hague to pay a visit to the Gemeentemuseum. As I stepped out of the car, I saw at least a hundred people were queuing in line, so my heart started pounding a bit faster and my eyes got that glazed, determined shine, that I always get whenever I am very excited about something. This exposition must be quite something then, if everyone was dying to get in...

After what seemed hours of waiting (but actually only took fifteen minutes), I was released into the wild. Err, into the museum. Voici Paris focuses on high end fashion, couture fashion as we may say, throughout the years. The glamourous Haute Couture; a world that is drenched in champagne, charm and Chanel.

It all started with the man Charles Frederick Worth (1826 - 1895), who not only invented the label that is nowadays sewn into every garment made, but he was also the first to come up with the idea of Haute Couture. That meant several big changes, but it made the fashion world how she is today. Designers design a collection from their own inspiration (opposed to before, when women went to their tailor to have a dress made for them, with their instructions on how the dress should look), and they show this collection on mannequins to prospective clients. These clients can order from the collection, that consists of limited editions only. Everything is handmade in the couture house and it's all tailored on the body. A last important feature of Haute Couture would probably be that the designer oversees every aspects of the production.

Not every designer that makes pretty dresses can call himself a couturier, though. Le Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture, that was established in 1868, is a very select group of designers. You have to earn the right to be a member by following certain guidelines, such as design made-to-order for private clients, with one or more fittings; have an atelier in Paris with at least fifteen full-time employees; present a collection to the Paris press every season (twice a year), with at least thirty five runs with outfits for both daytime wear and evening wear. Members nowadays include Christian Dior, Balenciaga, Chanel, Givenchy, Jean Paul Gaultier; some international members are Maison Martin Margiela, Valentino, Giorgio Armani and Elie Saab.

Anyways, back to the exposition! You first enter a room that is filled with my favourite label of all time: Chanel. It shows you a peek in the collection that Kaiser Karl himself designed for the s/s 09 collection, where he worked together with the Japanese origami artist Kamo and transformed the runway into a white flowerfield, all made of paper.

From contemporary Chanel, the expo then leads us back into the history of fashion, starting with Worth and onto big names like Paul Poiret and Marie Vionnet. Oriental influences are clearly visible in these designs, and about the life of monsieur Poiret could be held an exposition alone. With his love for extravagant and exotic parties this 'king of fashion' ruled in the beginning of the 20th century. As the website of the Met explains very clearly:

"Poiret's exoticized tendencies were expressed through his use of vivid color coordinations and enigmatic silhouettes such as his iconic "lampshade" tunic and his "harem" trousers, or pantaloons. However, these orientalist fantasies (or, rather, fantasies of the Orient) have served to detract from Poiret's more enduring innovations, namely his technical and marketing achievements." 

Poiret was well known for his parties that had the sole purpose of creating name in the fashion industry and showing his wealth. He often claimed to have freed women from their corsets, and didn't have one bone of modesty in his - well dressed - body. In his memoirs "My first fifty years" (1931) you can get a good image of the man that more or less invented how to bend marketing to his advantage in the fashion industry. 

We're taking a quick walk through the roaring twenties when Miss Coco Chanel first came to play, and go on to the thirties and forties.

After the Second World War, Christian Dior enters the fashion stage, shocking the world with his excessive use of fabric for a 'New Look' in a time when fabric was still very rare. His silhouette referred back to the 19th century, when women still wore corsets and  big dresses. He claimed to have designed ''flower women'', with a skirt that would sway open as the cup of a flower upside down.

Dior in the 70s

Miss Coco makes her comeback after the war, mostly improving her earlier designs and introducing items to the fashion world that we now consider classics, such as the tweed ladies suit, the Little Black Dress, the two tone pumps and the black quilted purse. 

Let's jump to the sixties, when Audrey Hepburn wore this lovely fuchsia pink Givenchy dress in Breakfast at Tiffany's ('61). 

The exhibition also shows you work of today's designers; Dutch well known names - as well as international couturiers. A last designer worth mentioning is the Chinese Ma Ke. Her collection is all about authenticity and tradition. As an reaction against 'fashion for the mass' she pleats about going back to fair trade, quality and individual creativity. 

Feb 2007 collection WUYONG ('useless') The Earth, in Paris. Garments were stained with mud and sand, and presented in sculptural shapes.