My girl, Viv

Ahh, Vivienne. All I know about her is a concoction of tidbits from obsessive research and undying curiosity dating as far back as being thirteen years old. She was the first designer whose clothes I fell in unrequited love with. When I started making my own clothes as a teen, my first tendency was to rouche the fabric the way Westwood does, and, to add bustles, and exaggerated volume. The few pieces I own of her's are a bit oddball, they make me look like a punk pirate with an eye for dirty luxury.

Since, then, the appreciation has not faded. I don't adore every single piece in her collections, but I do find that each show has something - an idea, a look, a silhouette, that is worth taking away. Foremost, Viv's an uncompromising visionary. Less affected by season trends than many of her fashion cohorts, there is a certain consistency in everything the Vivienne Westwood house produces: Victorian structure, unadulterated punk nastiness, collage colors, volume, architectural draping, and beauty: beauty in something radically broken.

In the attached clip (click on the image above), wild Vivvie speaks candidly at her Spring/Summer 2009 show about staying away from compulsive bargain shopping. She suggests instead, "Buy less, let it grow old, and choose well." I couldn't agree with her opinion more, but her propsed solution for the scant wardrobe is a bit insane: 'next time you're at a loss, pull down your curtains and wrap yourself in that instead!' In her words, "If you don't have too much... You can make things out of your tablecloth or curtains. Don't get depressed! " Aww, Viv. Who would of guessed you were such a practical girl?

Mon anniversaire - le 28 mars

Every year, a week before my birthday, I begin to ponder what gift I'm going to give myself. From my friends and family, I'd be ecstatic to receive nothing but hugs and phone calls reminding me of the special people I have in my life. But the one gift that I expect, and count on, is the one I get myself. After all, birthdays are the one time of the year when I can make a luxury purchase for myself without the sinful guilt that undoubtedly follows the cash register ring. This year, the big birthday splurge is an airline ticket to London, and a ten-day holiday in Glasgow. (One phrase, two parts: word booty.) But, I'm also going to opt for something tangible too ... and hence the images below from Vivienne Westwood's Red Label collection. Instead of paying rent next month, I should be wearing either one of the dresses or maybe the wide-leg trousers on holiday!