Showing posts with label Lina Scheynius. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lina Scheynius. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Turn, Turn, Turn...


Have you ever been afraid of your style changing? After you've identified yourself with a look and you start to feel like someone different it can be overwhelming. On Sunday when I realized that I put together an outfit with no black I panicked alittle. "Do I look too normal"? I wondered. Has wearing black become an mental obligation/uniform? Uniforms are dull and if I'm feeling something else I need to branch out. I'm discovering that pink is not evil. Dusty rose is actually a cool colour. Now, don't think that I'm going to be dressed head to toe in prep gear or ugg boots(I can't seem to shake my dirty hippie tendencies, nor do I want to). I'm feeling less androgyny and more pale colours with a Jennifer herrema kind of twist. I'm also loving the way some japanese women manage to wear feminine clothing without looking super sweet. It's more like a short, dusty rose chiffon dress with ripped jeans and fierce black pointy heels kind of thing (or quriky pointed flats). And there's got to be a dropwaist belt with some form of hardware on it. A true contradiction. Think Alison Mosshart at the Chloe fragrance launch.


To get a bit personal, this is due to me feeling less like brooding. I think I'm getting a better outlook.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Dreaming/Waking

*broken link has been repaired


photos by the talented Lina Scheynius

Its time to unwind with the weather. Its the season for evening walks again. Lina Scheynius' photographs make me want to wear a proper spring dress. I was first captivated by her work for an interesting dress project called Dream and Wake. The images reminded me so strongly of The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides (a striking book and film). In her pictures I imagined that the models represented the Lisbon sisters trapped in their parents home and longing for sun to caress their skin outside of window panes. The dreamy feel of that kind of depression resonated within my strong memories of summer days blending like all of the shades of paint on my pallet into one murky, dull color. They no longer stood apart and time fell into that unwanted immersion of an endless day. Thank God its over.
"A clock became a hunk of molded plastic, telling something called time, in a world marking its passage for some reason." -The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides