It might look like the result of a bored, rich kid’s experiments with Photoshop and/or illegal substances, but this marvelous picture of a jellyfish across a cloudy sky is actually the work of Russian biologist and photographer Alexander Semenov. To take it, he dived underwater (under very clean water, it seems) and turned his camera upwards.
Enjoy his results while I’m holidaying (by some less clean water.) Or at least my body is, because my mind keeps working on all the much more elaborate posts I’ll treat you with when I come back. I’ll also insert a jellyfishy pun here, as soon as I come up with one.
This book made me happy and angry at the same time.
On one hand, it’s delightful: smart, witty, and insightful. It’s refreshing to find someone who loves fashion, but can take the piss out of itat the same time – a rarity in a world that generally takes itself way too seriously. And it takes the skill of a Guardian columnist to write a funny little book about frocks and socks that also mentions Ukip and Derrida
If you’ve got more money than your body has cells, there’s plenty you can do with it. You can order a huge, diamond-encrusted dress to wear for an oligarch’s birthday party on the roof of his Miami residence, and then regret picking something you can’t sit in. You might as well buy a bit of spiritual enlightenment to hang above your sofa – a $87 million Rothko, anyone? Or you can have it both ways and invest in pieces of Zen that are also wearable. Two in one, such a bargain!
Karl Lagerfeld isn’t the Kaiser for no reason: of the hundreds – yes, hundreds – of collections he has delivered so far, I can safely bet not a single one was ugly. Whatever he comes up with is stylish, relevant and intricately detailed. This perfection could easily be boring, except that often it’s anything but.
The first two things that I heard about this show were that is was ethnic-inspired and that Raf Simons finally decided to cast black models. Oh no, thought I. Another instance of people of colour being treated as exotic curiosities rather than actual human beings.
Remember the costumes in The Great Gatsby? Of course you do. Such stunners aren’t easily forgotten. But not everyone was equally in awe of them – Miuccia Prada faced some criticism over their historical inaccuracy. Were the naysayers right? Yes and no. Yes, because no one with basic knowledge of fashion history could mistake Daisy’s dresses for authentic 1920s designs. No, because the pieces achieved the desired effect – one that more “realistic” styles would not.
For the next week, I’ll write nothing but reviews of haute couture shows. I’ll praise some, criticize others, and even give them star ratings.
Who am I to dare even think of questioning the megnificence of Dior or the genius of Karl Lagerfeld? Why, a young girl who tackled putting words into sentences and managing a simple WordPress site. In a word, a blogger.
Mentions of politicians’ clothes are often irrelevant. I’m fed up of Michelle Obama’s dresses being discussed more feverishly than her husband’s speeches, and there’s no place for plunging necklines in an article about Angela Merkel, unless she wanted to legislate them. Luckily, she doesn’t.