ANARCHY IN THE UK

 

The day I quit law school. 
Par The Girl. 

 
 

Let's talk about that mystical act of attrition or dark sick impulse. You know the day, I quit law school. "Woe betide the girl with no degree", they said. "What is she going to do now?", they pondered. Ah, the sorrow; the despair! Bah!

Let me tell you something. It felt damn good. I particularly enjoyed the air of deliberation with which I did it. I mean, we are joking, but if you think about what it represents, it's anarchy! "Undermine their pompous authority", Sid Vicious shrieks. 

So, I caused maximum inconvenience. I thought about what I did all week. And then I took methodical pleasure and fell into the creative world. Which naturally, caused even further bewilderment. Art is death!

But anyway. For three years at my new creative University, I've learned to do two things*.
First, was to go out and interview people. Of course, I came across cretinous creeps and other godawful, wretched, worthless, unnerving morons with equal portions of obnoxiousness.
But the second thing I had to do – and the most important one – was to go home and pour out my emotions.

 

But anyway. For three years at UCA, I've learned to do two things. First, was to go out and interview people. Of course, I came across cretinous creeps and other godawful, wretched, worthless, unnerving morons with equal portions of obnoxiousness.
But the second thing I had to do – and the most important one – was to go home and pour out my emotions. You see, writing is about feeling, love, anger, joy, fear, hope, lust. I am not going to lie. It took some time to figure out the mechanics of journalism, but I had finally found the insurrection I longed for. 

That's the ultimate message here. Quit if you hate what you are already doing and search for what you truly love. Sure, the implications are terrible (for a week, maybe). But not worse than the mere sight of your personal sadness being constantly reflected on every surface. And as for the pitiless judgment, well, talent and the success and happiness that come with it, undermine pompous authority. 

[*For those who don't know, I am now a First Class Journalism graduate. And I currently work as a freelancer.]

 

Yves forever; Par The Girl

 
 

Avenue Montaigne will shine brighter and the Eiffel's tower lights will eternally glow
because of those three initials - YSL.

Yves Saint Laurent in place Jemaa El Fna (c) Reginal GRAY photographer

Yves Saint Laurent in place Jemaa El Fna (c) Reginal GRAY photographer

 

The world’s cognoscenti stood inside the Church of Saint-Roch in Paris, bowing diffidently and wielding graciously their hankies as they said farewell to the prince of fashion, Yves Mathieu Saint Laurent. He peeled away the ignorant wounds of an uneducated world that accepted segregation based on race and gender and subsequently redefined the perception of beauty.

From his earliest forays into design in 1957 at Christian Dior, where, at the age of 21, succeeded the legend himself, through his retirement in 2002, Saint Laurent shook the fashion world to it’s core. 

In the 1950s society was saturated with pop sensibility and subversive adolescence and Saint Laurent injected these countercultural aspects into his designs for Dior. The monsieur wrenched high fashion away from the nouveau riche and delivered it to the hands of frail-looking youthful women. And as his longtime partner and business associate, Pierre Berge stated, “Gabrielle Chanel gave women freedom, but Yves Saint Laurent gave them power.” 

The house of Yves Saint Laurent opened in 1962 and in the next several years fashion critics would refer to him, without irony as a god. 

 
 

The ashes of Yves Saint Laurent were scattered in the Jardin Majorelle in Morocco.

 

The New York Times named his 1965 Mondrian-inspired shift dresses as the brightest and freshest he has ever done. The same newspaper declared that it was quite a look for his iconic 1967 le smoking trouser suit. Hiding out in Marrakech prompt a sudden shift in his work, as he showed safari jackets and a black see-through chiffon dress that stirred controversy. And a tour de force of bad taste when, in 1971, he showed a collection of palazzo pantsuits that reminisced the days of the Nazi Occupation. This was soon to be a staggering portfolio of designs that lesser mortals had spent years studying, imitating and knocking off. The limelight of Saint Laurent’s career was in 1966 when he launched his ready to wear Rive Gauche collection.

Saint Laurent was iron-willed, but also a notorious life-long alcoholic that led him to retreat from the fashion world altogether.  

To say merci would not be enough; the word that can articulate our feelings for the eternal Crown prince of fashion is amour.  

Au revoir, Yves Saint Laurent. 

 

THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP

 

we are the reckless, we are the wild youth
chasing visions of our future... 

All I know is that friendships evolve and blossom in unexpected ways. Some inevitably die, yes, but some get unimaginably stronger. And I feel lucky, in a way, to have come to these friendships late, because it means I never take them for granted. I know that being open to friendship, whenever and however it arises, and daring to be vulnerable can enrich your life in unimaginable ways. █

 

CHINOISERIE LOVE

the GIRL LOVES: The London home of Hannah Cecil Gurney. 

1. 

 
 

INSPIRATION D'AUJOURD'HUI
Par
The Girl
Photographe Natalie Dinham
Pour ELLE Spain 

 
 
Hannah-Cecil-de-Gurney-london-home-3.jpg

2.

*Hannah Cecil Gurney is the director of wallpaper company De Gurney. Her London apartment is the epitome of chinoiserie. 

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#chinoiserielove