>> This is just a short post to check-in and say "I'm in Tokyooooooooo and I'm happy as larry, wearing Tsuuuuuuuuuumoriiiiiii Chisatooooooooooooo!!!" That is exactly how I say Tsumori Chisato in my head. Just to illustrate that I've shoved a sound file here so you can hear how I'm saying it in my head...
My first real pit stop in Tokyo inevitably revolves around the happiness-inducing wonder that is Tsumori Chisato and her illustrations that grace her clothes. This dress from the S/S 12 tropical/jungle infested collection is the perfect representation of why my face lights up whenever I am in Tokyo. I am one big giant ball of squeal, whenever I am in a Tsumori Chisato store and thankfully the shop girls are far too polite here to even think of smirking at me and instead share my enthusiasm by repeating "Kawaii" repeatedly. What else is there to say about a silk scarf dress that features criss cross check formation alligators and matching alligator-head cut-out straps? Only in Tsumori's world.
>> You can smack down a prompt slap on the wrists for the two day blog absence but I think talking about myself at the Portable events down in Sydney and in Melbourne (where I am now) rather dented my desire to then want to come on here and blah on in first person. However, many hours have passed and narcissistic tendency strikes again. MBFWA has passed by in a flash and I still have a ton of things to go up. For now though as per the tradition of Style Bubble going AWOL due to travel, sickness or both, outfit filler is most appropriate. With practically every street style king (and queen) out there, here lies a hotchpotch of shots, which demonstrate why packing for a fashion week abroad AND a month away in differing climates has been a bit of a nightmare. Therefore, I'm somewhat grateful that a few lovely new additions such as a beautiful lava lamp paisley print Magdalena Velevska dress and a smocked n' beanded Rue du Mail dress arrived ready and raring to go for the week. Other than that, I relied on the rest of my sardine canned suitcase of rolled n' scrunched up clothes to come out and play.
In manner of an Oscar speech, I would also like to take this filler moment to thank Portable for giving me the opportunity to let me clamber down under again as well as EVERYONE who bought a ticket to see the talk. If you didn't get a single thing out of it, at the very least I hope you scored a bottle of Peroni
Petulant and angry teenager that I was, I used to get really riled up about the oft-touted wardrobe staples that apparently would transform your style and miraculously solve the conundrum of what to wear day, in day out. The perfect white shirt. The little black dress. The cashmere sweater. There's often a subtle name-dropping that comes packaged up with these wardrobe basics. "I love my James Perse t-shirts." "Equipment shirts are essential!" "I can't live without my Jo Malone candle" (does anyone really NEED a fruity slash floral noted candle burning in the background?) I suppose it's that idea of pre-ordained, dictated ideas of good taste, something that I vividly remember from an Elle interview with the Meadham Kirchhoff guys.
The Chanel jacket is the undisputed king/queen of this wardrobe staple hierarchy, the big daddy-o that deserves all the name dropping. I've lost count of how many style talking heads have raved and vouched for their Chanel jacket - how it pulls an outfit together, how it transcends generation and defies age, how it's a classic that never goes out of fashion. I'm certainly not disputing those statements and I'm definitely no longer that angry girl with a vendetta against the tried-and-tested fashion agenda (well, most of the time anyway….) but I'm definitely curious as to how this history-laden piece of clothing does feel like on the real, live, flesh.
I've never had the fortune of owning one, coming close a few times whenever I've seen them in vintage shops because every so often I would be tempted by the idea and the ideals of the jacket. I've shirked away everytime though when I thought that the jacket might fall short of the tall order of expectation. I've never even tried one on until a few days ago. Swanky vintage stores hide their Chanel jackets high up on unreachable rails and tut at you .
Fortunately the unveiling of the touring Little Black Jacket exhibition in Tokyo, where Karl Lagerfeld and Carine Roitfeld come together to create a set of photos to pay homage to this very item of clothing, gave me the opportunity to reassess the LBJ situation. The exhibition will be followed up by a book that comes out later in September featuring Roitfeld herself on the cover disguised as Coco Chanel.
Chanel have also cleverly created a now-viral video, which condenses the making of the jacket into a few minutes, capturing all the essential traits that make the jacket wholly recognisable - the distinctive metal chain sewn onto the inside edge of the jacket to ensure it hangs properly on the body, the nubbly tweed that Coco Chanel favoured as early as 1936, using cheap tweed from her then-beau Duke of Westminster's factory, the shrugged-on collarless shape, the 3/4 sleeves that were designed to allow bracelets to be shown off and the specific striped panelling that lines the jacket, allowing it to be sized up or down if you take it to tailor. The blending of the story and tales that come with the creation of the jacket along with a weirdly practical care for functionality makes it a piece that can only really be appreciated when you try it on for size, which is exactly what I did with this sample Chanel Little Black Jacket, the same one featured in the vid. Kaiser Karl and Madame Roitfeld will probably be displeased with the distraction of colour that I've injected through pastel prints and washed out neons, judging by the suitably stylish black and white photos in the exhibition. I'm nothing if not predictable though.
The verdict? I hate to confirm the cliche but the Chanel LBJ does shrug on like a dream, with the chain mechanism engineered to make you feel like you don't want to take it off. The 3/4 sleeves surprised me with their length. My nagging mother would complain that the jacket was too small but of course, the shrunken look of the sleeves is how Coco Chanel intended them to be. Sadly of course, the LBJ had to go back to its cream carpeted London Chanel HQ (bar none, the softest carpet I've ever padded around on….) but at the very least, I've now found out for myself what all the fuss is all about. Stamped. Done. Sprogs of ageing rockers or well to do older socialites can carry on bleating on about how great a Chanel jacket is and how they've inherited a whole rail of them from their mothers. Now to set about the task of actually getting one and then desecrating it with neon plastic trim or something equally out of place and wrong.
Worn with Louise Gray shirt, Tory Burch trousers, Underground creepers.
Worn with COS dip-dyed top and fluoro skirt, DKNY sheer black top and Nike trainers.
A Google Map listing all of my favourite fashion shops in London that is by no means comprehensive...
Disclaimer
Most of the photos are taken by myself and where I have used other images, a link or credit will normally be given. All photos are only used for commenting reasons and no photos are used for commercial reasons unless specified.
