Westbourne Groooving

As I walk down the streets of Westbourne Grove, contemplating the loss of my “intellectualism”: in maths (self-confessed high school geek/math league member), chemistry (I dabbled with a little NO₂ and CO back in the day. That’s Nitrogen Dioxide and Carbon Monoxide for my anti-chem fashion readers) and history (test me on my Russian Revolution knowledge. Go ahead. What good that would do me now – unless! Unless I make it to Cuba before the other Castro brother's overthrown.. hmm, I smell an adventure.. excellente) and my failure struggle loss of a focused career efforts to create a stepping stone / establish a successful career / put a footprint in the superficial-cut-throat-financially-unforgiving-to-your-pockets-yet-still-loving-every-moment-of-it fashion marketing business, I stop dead in my tracks.

Because right in front of me, at one of my favourite Notting Hill boutiques, Feathers, is Luma's total and utter enrapture with that beauty in the window display: purple + floral.

 Jean Paul Gaultier S/S 09

How can love and beauty be so simply expressed through a colour block? and with oh so natural a print? (And to think Jean Paul Gaultier would still be producing things I'd be contemplating, let alone slitting my wrists over??) 

“What's in a colour? That which we call a rose
/ By any other colour would smell as sweet."

 

Oh snap. Pulled a Shakespeare pun. Yup I did the ultimate writer cliché and I’m not ashamed to say it!

I will let my fellow -1 readers (apparently I upset my new reader with my major fashion faux pas so it’s back from 0 to -1. Sigh, you can’t please everyone) feast their eyes on the eye candy that is low and behold, a moment of pure pleasurable colour coordination calmness. Because this eye banquet, my friends, brings more enlightenment, clear headedness and inner peace to me than ten sessions of Bikram Yoga ever would.

(PS. not very proud of my images today. Tomorrow is another day though..)

Moi Fashion Faux Pas

(just thought an incorrect French title would still sound so much more alluring than regular English no?)

Now of all the toughest deepest darkest secrets we’ve ever had to confess to friends, family - and even strangers during Truth or Dare (why do we even subjugate ourselves to such suffering anyhoo), from killing your little sister’s favourite cat and blaming it on the dog (you know who you are) to blaming your driver and having him fired for your own dishevelled car accident/cancellation (you don’t actually know who you are cuz I’m not supposed to know about this either), nothing is more dreaded or avoided than your own ultimately disastrous fashion faux pas.

Yes. The biggest mistake you ever wore in your life. Made to the public. In the form and shape of your body. Labelled as a crazy lunatic and loss of all fashion respect for the rest of your life highly likely. Out and about for the world to see in all its guts and no glory.

I remember mine. Very well and clearly, unfortunately. My -1 readers, you might be thinking, but dear Luma, did you actually believe it was only 1 outfit that made the list? Being the modest and honest person that I 'totally' am, I will confess that this moment actually came about a multitude of times. But to let my new readers (yes you heard it right, I now officially have 0 readers after receiving a comment from a stranger! Thank you stranger :)) suffer the agony of hearing such tales… I think I’d rather stick to one story.

And it’s not a memory that could have easily been forgotten. It was actually a sunny and beautiful day – one of only 97 possible sunny days of the year in London (This statistic coming straight from my Mom, who apparently confirmed this from very reliable sources at the BBC - The Alan Carr show if you must know).

My first day of the summer after uni had ended. My first sunny day of freedom in London. 

(More like the return of Christ with this blood red sun but anyway)

My first chance to express my upcoming glory-filled lazy Pimms-laden appropriate summer chic-est outfits ever.

Cue in the horridness.

Christopher Kane S/S 09

 

Not the shirt. I actually love this shirt. Just thought the gorilla face would be effective. Ok yes, so back to cue-ing in the horridness.

Orange round collar t-shirt (yes you heard it, not mustard yellow, not ashburn orange, but bright-in-your-face-I-could-be-a-mandarin orange, the only time I wore that shade and will never do it again) and cobalt blue high-waisted skirt, black & gold vintage (by vintage, I mean plasticky-‘worn out look’-tacky-made-in-Taiwan-last-year) tribal necklace with lizard-print flats.

I save you the agony of having visuals of both the outfit and my friends’ faces (some of which are no longer that close to me – I tell you it’s a risky thing). It is far too painstakingly horrifyingly painful to view (the word pain was repeated twice for good measure). And instead, I provide you with a mix of wavering pastels that might hopefully erase that vivid memory of such uncalled for, tasteless to say the least, colour combos –

Cue in pleasant cheesy elevator music/slash-your-wrists heavy metal as appropriate.

Sartorialism Stalkism

It’s not so often that I like to post links to other websites since I’ve written over 10,000 blog entries and counting (not only does it take forever to load, which I am so kindly aware of and worried for the sake of wasting my beloved -1 readers’ time, but is also quite distracting from my absolutely mesmerising blog), but my dear friend so kindly brought to my attention the following life-altering link: 

http://pipeline.refinery29.com/street_seen/get_shot_by_sartorialist.php

Now don’t get me wrong, when I dress, I dress to impress, but I dress to impress The Sartorialist myself first, and maybe my Westbourne Grove hood second, and third, my friend’s imaginary hot real estate agent who could come by any minute (I will only believe he exists when I see him). Then, if all else fails, hopefully get a comment or two from our local construction workers across the street, which hasn't even happened yet (cue cries of shame - this would never happen in Lebanon). No worries there though, as after finally getting some proper contact lenses last week (thank you Hish Hish & Dana – I can now see that the tube to Mile End is 1 min way!), its been verified that they're in fact female and do not actually care that much for me mixing block colours ala Dries Van Noten with rolled up nude trousers and animal-print scarves.

Though I do think the striped blondie on top may have potential style hunter urges in her. Dare I say Clueless makeover anyone?

Alas, back to my point. Which I have digressed from so successfully. Rolled-up nude high-waisted trousers? Check. Block colour sexy yet aloof AA T-shirt? Check. Animal print scarf casually tossed on the neck? Double check. Chunky black and brown Marni wedges? Extra points. Ridiculous statement necklace for short measure accompanied by expensive bag? Took it way tooooo seriously/far Perfect!

Now all I have to do is linger around Broadwick st (Soho + cobblestone road = double score!) sometime around LFW mid/end of Sept waiting for the Sart..

But wait. Won’t animal print be soo over then?? OUTFIT CHANGE!

saltOD vs LBD

As I wait for my bloated stomach - thanks to a salt overdose from M&S’s salt & black pepper cashews (and walkers sensations. Which I will not mention out loud as it didn’t really happen. That’s right tummy) - to deflate, I couldn’t help but pull the most clichéd line from Sex & the Citywonder, will my tummy deflate in time for me to fit into my Herve Leger-esque body-hugging, Christopher Kane/Alexander Wang see-through, Sass & Bide LBD for a night out @ Whiskey Mist? (I can keep on namedropping. Just try me. And if you’re asking if this dress even exists, the answer is yes. HA!)

More importantly, should there be background music to my blog? And will you care if my font is Apple Gothic, Arial Narrow, Verdana, or, dare I say it, Times New Roman? Only time will tell my friends, only time shall tell.. 

Thunder, lightening & all that jazz?

Ok. So im ready to start my new blog. This is it! Woah. Ok.. not so bad.. looking around the corners of the screen.. hmm… not as scary as it looks. Except for that creepy little message they send you at the beginning: ‘if you choose this blog name, YOU WILL BE STUCK WITH THIS FOREVER.” (cue in thunder, lightening bolt and to be on the dramatic side, throw in a little Jaws theme tune).

So my question to you is, Mr. website blog creator machine person, is, are you teasing me? Are you telling me my blog name is not..(gasp) good enough? Well, so what if I originally thought ‘Fantabulous Fashionista & the City’ was a fantastic name? And so what if you Phhh’ed ‘Luma the Great’? or that ‘crocs rock’ may have beaten GARANCE’s hits within 3 days?? (Not to worry Garance, I would not dare take away your fan base just like that. I’ll just have to figure out how to do that some other way…hmmm, maybe if I chose the second one…)

Ok I think I may have written too much already. And insulted way too many. The one person reading this is probably bored and has no clue what this is about (sorry Mom – actually no, I’m lying, my mom cant use a computer to save her life. Shout out to WAFERS though). So if my mathematics memory serves me correctly, I will have -1 readers by the end of today. Not bad for a beginner no?

I think this is a good time to ‘cue in image’:

My philosophical question of the day to you is  - how irrelevant this image is right now?