Wallflower Dispatches

The first love for an object – Nutella-soaked breakfast crackers, Glenn Gould and his variations on Goldberg, before Florence in May, even before the nimble feet of Fred Astaire – the love that came before all others was England, and more specifically: London.
Like all other first adolescent emotional attachments this love was abstract, idealistic, unconditional, [...]

[Read more →]

“The higher up you go, the more mistakes you are allowed. Right at the top, if you make enough of them, it’s considered to be your style.”
Fred Astaire (1899-1987)

[Read more →]

 
 
Despite having graduated from the Katharine Hepburn School of Dressing, taken an emergency diploma at the Jackie O. Summer School of Wearing Sunday Best (module: skirts and dresses) plus an unhealthy teenage obsession with the Fred Astaire’s sartorial accessories, to me ‘fashion’ always started and ended with a well-cut white cotton shirt.
 
Only after the arrival [...]

[Read more →]