A/W 2010 Look Book - Part Trois

The Illusionist

I recently went to see The Illusionist. No, not the one with Edward Norton that was vaguely disappointing.

I hadn't really noticed how CGI and Pixar style animation had taken over so completely, and just how different it is from hand-drawn. It's smoothness, the somehow homogenous quality of every film, despite the different plots, subjects, settings.

This Illusionist is an animation of the old school brigade and it's a delight. Hand-drawn and beautifully imperfect. Intricate, drawings that stemmed from obsessive observation, it seemed all the better able to reflect its human subjects and their own imperfections.

Is one better than the other?  I don't think it's about being 'better', I think it's about appreciating the differences, and not losing the old in our rush to embrace the new.

The Illusionist is, on the face of it, a simple tale of an old French variety show magician who travels to Scotland to ply his trade. What it's also about is the naiveté of youth, and on the other side of the coin, hope in the face of experience, that despite all the signs pointing to the contrary, a big break's just around the corner.

Sounds gloomy? But it's not, it's sweet, warm, compassionate and funny. Poking fun at itself, at the cheesiness of variety acts and the eccentricity of one's neighbours. You get all of this in faded washes of colour, sweeping landscapes, intimate domestic scenes, and an ever present musical score. The score is the script, it tells you what the characters are thinking and feeling, and the sparse use of mumbled French or Gaelic is the punctuation.

If you get a chance, go see it. I don't think it's going to be around for long, and something about being ensconced in the warm, popcorn sticky cinema air makes it all the more charming.  It's like a toffee caress, and the bright modern light you step into when you leave contrasts with a lemon sharpness.

All In The Name of Research

The day started, as all days ideally should, with lunch in the sun. It was all so good, low carb, as all pre-shopping lunches are, and suitably spoilt by some high carb wine, not to mention the sticky toffee pudding (with two spoons natch).

Walking it off meant a mooch around the west end.

We undertook some scientific research *cough* in Whistles on Marylebone High Street. What follows are our current favourites. Alas I need to eat this month, so after fondling the fabrics I sought solace in H&M.

C'est la vie.

A/W 2010 Look Book - Part Deux

Oh yes, there's more. What can I say? The upcoming season's shaping up to be a humdinger.

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A/W 2010 Look Book - Part Un

I like to think of it as an update on the tradition of scrap booking. But y'know, stylish.

Anyway, here's some of the looks I'll be working into my Autumn/Winter wardrobe this year.

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La La Leopard Print

So, my beautiful Mulberry wallet was stolen a few weeks ago. I may have been on the wine. I may, just may, have been less than vigilant with my stuff.

Sigh. Lesson learnt. Especially having relinquished all hope that Mulberry will still stock something that is at least 6 season old.

Having mourned its passing, I have moved on to two new loves. One is courtesy of my gorgeous friends who felt my accessories pain and hit me up with a brand new season Mulberry coin purse.

Yeah, I'm spoilt.

And the second is courtesy of Spitalfield market.

La la leopard print indeed!

Rififi

For my recent birthday (let's not mention how old I was, I'm in denial), a favourite and long time friend of mine sent me the perfect gift. Movie night in a box. Bags of sweet and salted popcorn, crispy M&Ms, jelly beans and some gorgeous dark chocolate with ginger and orange, hid two DVDs; Rififi and Sweet Smell of Success.

My friend, let us call him L, has impeccable taste. Impeccable. His choices were two of his favourites and I'm touched that he wanted to share them with me. So, as I languished with the flu on Friday night (yes it's still ongoing, no I don't want to talk about it, it's too dull for words), I watched Rififi.

Rififi is a classic 1950's French film noir; hard boiled men who do what they must, passionate yet passive women, cigarette smoke curling in the air, basement night clubs and of course, a heist.

Set in Paris, Tony's just got out of a 5 year stretch in prison, with his health ailing, he returns to his old haunts and to reclaim his old girlfriend, Mado. His friends try to persuade him to do one last job with them.  Tony's not interested, he's interested in finding Mado, except she's now with another mobster. After a heated confrontation with Mado, Tony throws caution to the wind and joins his friends to plan one last heist; the ultimate heist - stealing F240 million of jewels from a jewellery shop. What could possibly go wrong?

I became immersed in a world of distressed dames who don't give a damn and men who used to be better, and know it.

Shot in black and white, the sparse script, which the actors almost literally spit out in each scene, is accented at all times by the lighting. It's stark and harsh, illuminating the character's faces to an almost ghoulish effect.

Tony le Stephanois

Style wise the film has it in spades, the strong, atmospheric cinematography imbibes the whole film with a sense of claustrophobia, especially in the 30 minute heist sequence. The lighting, and the direction pull you in until you're in Tony's gang, one of them, and praying as they are that they can pull it off.  You can't look away, you hold your breath every time they do, and all the while Tony and his friends don't utter a word. Not for 30 minutes. So simple, so effective, and a testament to the director, Jules Dassin's mastery of suspense.

A scene from the heist sequence

I can't tell you how it ends without ruining it,  except that it does so abruptly. When Tony's luck turns, and it does, you know that it has to end, and that it won't end well. But despite yourself, you hope for one more roll of the dice. When the word 'fin' appeared I felt as though I'd been slapped and like a true film-noir dame I enjoyed the sting.