LONDON.[ An Issue concerning Fashion in one of its Capital Cities ]

LONDON.
[aeral view of london from the London Eye ]

I've just come back from my two weeks long holiday in London and here I am, to talk to you about one of the many aspects of the city. The one concerning my blog. These first snaps are from my very first time, and very first night, in London. As soon as we got out of the underground, it started pouring. At first I was quite disappointed, but despite the clod weather, despite being soaking wet, it was worth it. London reaches its very best under the rain. Than night, London seemed as huge as ever and as magical. The Ritz and the other luxury hotel gleamed in the darkness. shamefully as it is, I wasn't staying there, but at University of Westminster. Yes...the one where Vivienne Westwood's been too.Only to discover ( I didn't have a clue before i got there! ) it was quite an important design school. Cohincidence?

As soon as we were free, my friends and I started looking for a Starbucks to refugee in, waiting for the rain to decrease its flow, or, vane hope, to stop. I was damn sad and angry and soaking wet ( though the least one, it is to say, among my friends ) and craved my cappuccino. And, to ease the pain a bit, a double chocolate muffin was right what it took. Starbucks was so welcoming and warm and quiet that it soothed my soul. It was official. I was in love with every little inch of London.

Sat down in front of the window, facing the street, i watched people passing by, Londoners, tourists, a blend of people, carrying their stories, being hit by the raindrops, somewhat purifying, somewhat punishing, the lights of the city screaming mute ads, overwhelming, desperate to be heard. And my head was heavy with thoughts.

In Piccadilly Circus, that night, i spotted my first Limo, only the first of a long list, and was lucky enought to catch it as it passed, the blinding lights of the almost daily lighted square reflecting on its darkened windows.It was kind of becoming clear that Luxury was everywhere around me, and i was immerged in it, part of it, somehow.

Here i am, at University of Westminster, just out of my room, 71A, the biggest one ( Again, cohincidence? ) ready to go to the "disco" organised by the univeristy staff. That was all too weird! it was probably 8.30-9.00 pm, and it was just far too soon for me to go to the disco. In Italy, discos usually opne at about 11.30 pm. This one, instead, was closed by 10.30. Plus, it was completely alcohol-less, whereas italian discos are full of it, and we usually get 2 free drinks or something. My firends didn't even bother dressing up and went there in their tracksuits ( they actually meant to go there in their pijiamas but i stopped them ) but i refused to do the same ( even because i don't own such thing as a tracksuit to be honest! ) and even though not dressed up the same as i would to go to the disco in normal conditions, i changed my outfit. Still, i wasn't wearing any make up and still had my hair wet from washing them earlier on.

[ Trench coat: Zara. Skinny Trousers: Zara. Shoes: Zara ]

Probably one of the best days i spent in London, and the most proficuous one, began with a visit of Notting Hill. Here's me and my friend in Portobello Road, Taking a photo with a delicious headless man. How could i know that the very same afternoon, i would have been taken a photograph with an half naked fair haired male model too...? [ Weeeell, that's another story, and i'm gonna save it for my next post. ]

Notting Hill was a crowd of Vintage shops displaying the nicest things i'd ever seen, but since my arrival, i put my eyes on this dress [ i'd actually seen it that very morning on the rain going there, too ] and couldn't keep them off it. Useless saying, i bought it, in one of the lovely shops.

Durnign my stay in London, i assumed this must be like the best seller dress in London, because every shop had it, and so did the shops in the surroudnings, from Oxford to Brighton. It's a style that goes for the most, but there isn't such thing in Italy, so, good for me. Will it become big here too?

After Notting Hill we went to Hyde Park to have some rest and there my friends starting to make their phonecalls to familymembers and sweethearts, and never ended. One of them broke all records being on the phone with a friend for something like 40 mins, walking up and down the park, disappearing out of human sight and then popping back again. Me, the cynical one, without anybody to call and stay on the phone with...could i resist the temptation of an himitation? Here's my parody of one of the many romantic phonecalls that were going on around me.

[ Jumper: Zara T-Shirt: conbipel Jeans Leggins: BSK High waist belt: H&M ]

In Hyde Park i spotted this girl wearing some of the nicest studded sandals i've ever seen, a beautiful bag and, something i love, and headband. She was kind of out of place in there, with screaming annoying children and such, but that's probably what brought her to my eye, and of course, my ready camera. Or was it the Selfridge's shopping bag...?

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As soon as we got to Marble Arch, with Oxfrod Street disentagling in front of us, the Giant of Cheap was standing up in front of us.

In Italy, salestime is the time when hungry fashionistas assault designer shops to see if they can manage to obtain some timeless piece without having to sell a kidney, and in general, a time for people to go and buy more expensive stuff at an affordable price. But salestime in London, Oxfrod Street, Primark, a saturday afternoon, looked like a seasonal renewal of a bottomless wardrobe, only without specific care for the label. I saw things that you, humanes, can't even wonder about. People with ten,twenty extra large Primark Bags, trying to carry them all at a time. A family must have had about thirty. I was astonished. I LOVE primark, but i couldn't buy in there, not after seeing the queue at the counter. My heart was crying for this. There were matelassè bags for the amount one usually spends at starbucks, shoes that were sold for 2 pounds or less, and so many things that i couldn't decide where to start. Indeed, to prevent my heart from exploding for the stress of deciding and coping with the crowd, i headed towards the exit and stood there waiting for the others i'd lost in that jungle of clothes. Also, there were tons of people sitting on the window step. I was slightly surprised that the guards didn't mind. In Italy it's some kind of unwritten rule, but we all abide by it: no one ever for no reasons sits on the step of an open shop window. That was something realxing in the stressful havoc of Primark.

Despite being a cheap shop, anyway, Primark has beautiful clothes, on the track of what is fashionable at the moment, repeating the big styles, himitating them. Some sort of Pret-à-Porter.Something we don't have here. The window was great and i managed to take some pictures.

But when i thought Primark windows were great, i still hadn't seen Selfridge's. In front of it, my heart went crazy and i kept my breath, in an effort not to start shrieking and yelling and fainting with excitement. I was open mouthed with astonishment. I'd never seen anything of that kind. Every single window displayed amazing futuristic clothes with apparently nonsense objects, like, for example, these sheep-pigs covered in greenish varnish. I Loved that place. I was like, go ahead, do whatever, but please leave me here! I've found my place to stay, my Home.

Here it is, the dress i liked the most, elegant, wrapping, bringing up memories of the past, in total contrast with the modern, minimal, hi-tech panorama. Hadn't realised i'm actually reflected in the mirror, already covered in shopping bags.

The topic they had chosen for the windows perfectly matched the concept of the latest dress i had designed and was still trying to perfectionate in my mind. That night, when i went back to the college, even though exhausted from the day out, i got a piece of paper and a pencil and drew the ultimate version of the dress. But this, too, is another story.

But flicking thorugh shops wasn't what we aimed that day. No. We were heading towards a specific shop, ubicated somewhere in regent's, and we were concentrated, mind body and soul, to find it. We were nearing it more and more.

LK Bennet warned us that we were quite there. We had eventually found Abercrombie.

Though many may argue that Abercrombie is not fashion, and though i myself don't [ or, well, maybe, DiDN'T ] consider it a name of fashion, Abercrombie still has something damn irresistible. If there's something to prize of it, however, with no arguing, is the selling tactic. As far as LK Bennet you start smelling a delicious perfume, and your mouth opens in a wide immotivate smile, and you start feeling lighter. As the perfume gets stronger you know you're in front of Abercrombie. That is the only thing that tells you. Otherwise, A&F only looks like a white, classic elegant palace, with no signs. Then, as you try to get in, you find yourself surrounded by extremely good looking models [ male for the majority ] all dressed up in the same clothes, that smile at you, and then a girl asks you if you want to take a free photo? And then you see it, you see him, the half-naked fair-haired model only wearing a pair of jeans and smiling at the camera. The fragrance starts giving to your head. It must contain Hormones, Drugs, or some other illegal susbatnce, because it's like an aphrodisiac, it blows your mind, and you starts floating and smiling. After the photograph, taken with a polaroid and given to you by the model himself, you start going round in the low lighted place, full of high wooden shelves, in this place tha looks like a rich house, with stairs and rooms, the same confunding fragrance sprayed on every single piece of clothing. I had to wake my fast asleep coscience to prevent myself from buying the nicest jacket i'd ever seen, or a blazer, or anything else. I grabbed the sweatshirt i liked the most, and headed to the desk trying not to look at the rest of the beautiful things.

[ Kurt Geiger, Brighton.]

[ What does this remind you of? Central London. ]

One night we went on the London Eye, right during sunset. Breathtaking.

The city of Blinding Lights.

Harrods, Harrods, Harrods. The long dreamt moment has come. It confundes with the rest of the building, but if you look carefully, you notice it in all its imponence. We try to get in, but they won't let groups in. We try at every entrance, but soon we feel kidded. It it because of clothing? Or just because we're a group? It's decided that yes, it must be because of clothing, and maybe a combination of the two, and i'm eleeged to try and go on my own. I pass the security guards with my heart beating loudly in my chest, a proud look, a confident pace, like in my life i had done nothing but going to Harrods, and actually, is clothes or is it just that i'm alone, despite my young age [ and sadly empty wallet it is to say ], i'm in. i feel pride overwhelming me in waves. I feel like i have died and gone to heaven, the greatest names of fashion surround me and i don't know which way i'm gonna go.

Harrods is amazing. i walk in and out the rooms, a bit in a hurry, because of people not so interested in what they are seeing, not acknowledging what they have under their eyes. I can't help but noticing that ninety percent of the customers are medioriental women, some wearing burkas, some not, but all presenting fixed points: a sickening amount of money at their mercè and no taste in spending them. Each of them worn more money than my house value, but the result was...vulgar. parvenue. Fuxia or deep red lipstiks, heavily coloured eyebrows, earrings as big as clenched fists and zebra-printed animalier vests, heavy golden jewellery, clothes matched the wrong way.... this time it was rage to came in overwhelming waves. These women had awful loads of money and just didn't know how to spend them, wasted them, and i was there, looking at them, thinking of one million stunning outfits i could have put together with the same amount of money. It just wasn't fair. All the same, despite they all held either an Hermes or a Chanel [ the latter is my wildest dream and i hope it wil be my graduation gift ], i was proud to be me: in my Zara outfit i look far more sophisticated than any of them.

Obiviously, i shopped in the Harrods Arcade, and was also commisioned some purchases, a thing that quite flattered me. First steps as a personal shopper?

[ Way to Covent Garden, Shu Uemura shop. ]

[ Near Covent Garden ]

Finally the visit to Madame Tussaud's: here are some of the photos. First of all, of course, the one with Audrey

One of the places i liked the most in London was the Tate Modern. Shamefully, we had very little time to visit it, but i loved it all, strarting with the architecture of the place, ending with its arts shop, where i bought an amazing book about fashion and textiles.

This holiday in London was particularily useful to me. I drew inspiration from that city, from all the things a saw, in the museums, in the shops, on the street, and now i'm full of ideas. I'm soon going to post photos of what i bought, and then i mean to start with my ideas. I haven't published any of my DIYs on my blog yet, but yes, i design and customise my own clothes as often as i can, and i hope you'll like them.

There are many things i've learnt from London, and many things i've learnt about London by observing it carefully and by living there for two weeks, and now that i'm back, i miss it enormously. It felt like my own city when i was there and it's hard to come back to nothing. From a Fashion Capital City to my Old Plain House, that's it. Crap. But there's my sewing machine to make me company, at least.