Never trust appearances…

]]> http://www.garancedore.fr/en/2009/12/03/secondskin/feed/ 124 http://www.garancedore.fr/en/2009/11/30/you-know-you-love-me/ http://www.garancedore.fr/en/2009/11/30/you-know-you-love-me/#comments Mon, 30 Nov 2009 06:51:30 +0000 Garance http://www.garancedore.fr/?p=9132

As the days get shorter, as I get a cold, as it rains and the temperature lowers, I take it all as a sign. It’s a sign that the moment I’ve been waiting for has finally arrived… !

Time to wrap myself up in plaid, make myself a good cup of tea, and plunge into a TV show. And if it all possible, the most regressive, the most immoral, the most insufferable, the most fashionable, the most delicious show on television: Gossip Girl.

Voilà, that’s how I spent my entire weekend in a limo on the Upper East Side with Blair, Serena and Chuck.

And then at another moment in time, as you don’t want to get too zombie-eyed, I decided to stick my head outside for a bit and have a coffee with my friend Eleonora.

C’moooonnnnnn… Eleonora, you do that on purpose?

—

PS: I apologize to everyone who has no idea what Gossip Girl is, nor who Blair Waldorf is… But one of her trademarks is having knots in her hair… And she really has sort of a family resemblance to Elenora! Ok, back to the real world now! Bonne journée !

Barcelona always makes me euphoric*. It’s got to be the mediterranean sun, the weather, the architecture**… Every time I’m there, I spend hours just walking, eyes in the sky and a blissfully large smile***. Of course, it’s got something to do with the people.

Picture this:

I ran into Alexandra and right away, fell in love with her jean shirt and took her picture.

Then we were off to go have a coffee, and get this, in the middle of the café, she pulls off her jean shirt**** and she says it would be her pleasure to give it to me. And well, I said yes!

And now, as I’m writing you, I’m at my apartment in Paris, looking through my pictures from Barcelona (I’m warning you, you’re missing out on my terrible architecture photos, and my amazing pictures of food, and don’t even ask for ‘em because I’ll publish them!!!*****) and I’m wearing Alexandra’s shirt and telling myself that this is the last time I go 10 years without going to Barcelona.

This town is like its people: a true gem!

——–

*REALLY euphoric. Ok, it’s probably because years back, I would spend my weekends all Woooouuuuuuhh ouh oh all night long. Party girl, yeah. Wooooouuuuuhouuuu!!!! Where is Laurent Garnier playing??! Wait, is Laurent Garnier way too 20th century? C’mon leave me alone or I’ll publish my pictures of pas con tomate!

** Gaudi makes me happy. Jean Nouvel as well.

*** That’s probably how I almost ended up the perfect target for a pickpocket. Oh man, the cry I let out when I felt her hand in my pruse. That’ll teach me to listen to the 3457 nice Barcelonians who told me too watch out and close my bag.

**** Of course she had something on underneath, c’mon!

***** It’s official, between the States and Spain, I gained 7 pounds. So I’m seriously thinking about making a visit to Doctor Chenot… Or maybe take another hip-hop class, but I can’t figure out which of the two situations I would be the most ridiculous in.

But why, why, WHY is it so good to eat??!!?? Yeah, that’s the question of the day. Big hugs! Bonne journée!

—–

* So it’s not so bad that they lost my suitcase, I totally get to spend all week in jogging pants! It’s a good thing, right? Aaaarrrrrrghhhhh!!!!

Translation : Tim Sullivan

You remember the day I talked to you about “fade-it like Daphné*?”

And so there you have it. It’s awesome, right? Too awesome.

So, my hair, it thought it was more or less cool.

OMFG! It’s all dried out! When I put my hands through my hair it stays in my hair!!! I went to Kiehls yesterday and bought a gallon of coconut conditioner and a family sized jar of the OLIVE OIL mask** and I decided I needed to get it cut right away.***

Moral of the story:”fade-it like Daphné” unfortunately, will stay just Daphné’s. Yarrr, Garance, you think you can just copy someone’s style like that? That it would be so easy? Okay, one more time, remember these words, “There’s no copying awesomeness… or attractiveness.****”

—-

* Of course I’m talking about hair here. Daphné has nothing else faded.

** Please, NEVER try to put plain olive oil directly in your hair. My sister did it when she was 13, and SHE SMELLED LIKE MOZZARELLA AND TOMATOES FOR 3 WEEKS and every time she’d pass by, you felt like you needed to add a pinch of salt.

*** Of course, I still haven’t gone, because between then and now, MY COMPUTER CRASHED*.

**** Once again, a quote from my master, the venerable Kung Fu Panda**.

—

* I know, no, thank you, yes, all my condolences to myself, emergency, help, bring me back to life. This isn’t possible… It crashed. Blank black screen. I didn’t even cry. I sat there in a daze in the middle of my apartment, watching the pieces of my life fly away into nothingness, and I sent out an SOS. 10 days, Apple said to me.

10 days! NOT POSSIBILE!!! And then before the hour was up, I realized that life went on anyways, and if the great Manitou up above wants to take from my MY CAMERA AND MY COMPUTER, then maybe it’s a sign that it’s time for me to head into the forest to forge for mushrooms.

So I put on my Marc Jacobs mustache clogs. (we’re not savages here, now, are we…) and off I went.

No luck, on the trail atop my horse-drawn carriage from the Chanel show, the Apple repair guys (And no, I swear, I didn’t sleep with them)(I just cried in front of their window in a really short skirt) sent me a sext message (okay, maybe just a regular text message) saying that it was fixed, brand new since they changed out the mother board, AND ALL IN A DAY AND A HALF INSTEAD OF 10.

I think it was the most beautiful text message of my life.

As far as my return to nature, we’ll get to that later? Can I keep the mustache clogs?

** I know, I know. It’s high time for them to come out with Kung Fu Panda 2, my quote has you all exited. BUT WE DON’T NEED IT BECAUSE IT’S ALREADY THE ANSWER TO ALL OUR FASHION QUESTIONS.

Alright, on that note, don’t thank me for the overflowing generosity of this post, it’s all good and normal. A day a half… damn… I missed you all.

Translation : Tim Sullivan

I just back from a tiny little stint in London and… Aaaahhh, I’ve got three things to tell you about, and none of them have anything to do with the others. Ok for you? Cool.

#1: Michelle.

Michelle is a lawyer and photographer. But during the week, she is surely a lawyer. I always forget how lucky I am to work in fashion: I get to dress exactly how I want. For Michelle, it’s not at all the same. She’s gotta be chic and respected at the same time while still respecting dress codes that’ll drive you crazy. But she works it out really well. Like take this year, she invested in this three piece suit by Sportmax. It’s pretty… Professional, yet still has an attitude*.

#2: Gloria.

Gloria is the fashion director of Teen Vogue and she dresses exactly the way she wants, but it’s really easy when you work in fashion to only wear frouffy clothes. But Gloria always knows how to find the perfect balance between cheap & chic. The shoes are from TopShop… and even WORSE for a fashionista, they’re from last year! Ooooooh man, rebel without a cause! Belle and rebel**!

#3: Hedi

Hedi is a photographer. He’s also one of the greatest designers of our time, a world all his own, like god-like in my eyes. Saturday, as I hop on the Eurostar, I see him, looking simple and sublime (all gods are sublime) in his camel duffle coat THAT I DIDN’T GET A PHOTO OF SO YOU’LL HAVE TO JUST CONSTRUCT YOUR OWN MENTAL IMAGE because even gods need a private life.

The only thing that I allowed myself to do was, a second after seeing him, was to shove out, “excuse me, I gotta get by, question of life and death” and push all of the peons out of the way who didn’t see what they had. I slid my way next to him amidst all the boarding craziness. I took my two hands together and tried to breathe in as much of his creative genius as a I could in as much time as I could steal.

Voilà. If I ever get the chance to really meet Hedi Slimane, no chance he’ll want to talk to me after reading this. What? Of course he reads my blog. Gods see everything. What did you think?!

Bonne journée!

——-

*”Professional, but with attitude.” : The two-bullet formula! What did I just say? Bahh… Ok, so in the end, I get what I’m saying. That’s what really matters, right?

** Belle and rebel.” : The most ridiculous formula in the world!

PS: Otherwise, the subject du jour that I totally missed: IT’S FRIGGIN’ COLD, WRAP YOURSELF UP IN A GIANT SOFT WOOL!!! Okay, off we go, there’s no helping me. Bonne journée!

]]> http://www.garancedore.fr/en/2009/10/19/working-girl-2/feed/ 123 http://www.garancedore.fr/en/2009/09/15/sports-illustrated/ http://www.garancedore.fr/en/2009/09/15/sports-illustrated/#comments Tue, 15 Sep 2009 05:12:48 +0000 Garance http://www.garancedore.fr/?p=7911

HOW DO PEOPLE DO IT? HOW DO YOU SURVIVE A FASHION WEEK?

By that I mean, how do the serious people do it, the people who start with the shows at 9:00 am, setting up rendez-vous in between to plan their next shoots, somehow able to find time to write an article or two, and then on top of that, get themselves ready for the night show and the after-party.

Every night during fashion week, there are the craziest parties. Like Alexander Wang last night who threw a wild party in a gas station. If you would’ve asked me any other time on the year, I’d have jumped on a plane just to go. But now, it’s two blocks away from where I’m staying and I can’t even drop by for a hello. Tonight, It’s Marc Jacobs and when it comes to his parties, it’s ALWAYS crazy. Everyone goes. And me, ME, where AM I? In bed, my kiddies. Too tired.

Carine Roitfeld* said to me, “It’s good to go to parties. You get the feeling you know what’s going on..”

Sigh.

Kate Lanphear** said to me, “C’mon Garance, you should be a party photographer, because then, we can FINALLY get that drink!”

Dismay.

Madonna*** said to me, “Garance, if you’re not coming to the Marc Jacobs party, I’m never talking to you again. You’re just out. That it’s. Out.”

Despair.

Listen up Mado. Just lend me your coach, ok? Next time I’ll start training for fashion weeks like I would for the New York Marathon. I’ll swallow a raw egg whole every morning, I’ll scream for Adrian, do my sun salutations every night and I’ll be on the courts, racquet in hand, at 6 every morning, like Anna Wintour. I’ll replace cupcakes with sprouted grains and lattes with green tea. And then I’ll bike to all the shows.****.

—–

* Ah. Yes, we’ll get back to this soon, and just how it happened. I just spent an entire day with my idol. Yep!

** Oh oh oh, yep yep! Kate always has the greatest ideas.

*** LIAR! I’ve never talked to Madonna. I realized AFTER the Marc Jacobs show when a friend was showing me some pictures he took, and there she was, sitting right next to me. Wooooohaaa.

**** I try to fall back on my paws there. My post has absolutely nothing to do with my picture, you’re right. But hey, no one is quite in their right mind when they’re running a marathon! And I’ll at least ask you to to check out Hanneli’s sunglasses, because next summer, we’ll all have our noses tucked under little vintage sunglasses. I mean, I did already say that back in 1992, and it still hasn’t quite caught on. But this time, I don’t know why, but I’m believing it. It’s gotta be the Madonna effect.

Translation : Tim Sullivan

A wonderful fashion week, it’s like spending a night in a candy shop. Suddenly everything is beautiful, everything is shiny, brilliant colors, people are smiling and… well, it’s irresistible. You totally want to photograph everything.

I keep wanting to take photos of the crazy stuff I hear as well. So many bizarre-o things gets said during fashion weeks.

“Tell me, how’s my hair? Does my hair look editorial? Or just dirty?”

“If my chauffeur isn’t here in 2mn, I’m running to Jeffrey’s to buy some shoes.”

Rah, I feel like I’m living with the script-writers for Gossip Girl. It’s amazing.

Other then that, Garance Doré Studios just got a new memo. There’s a new trend: LEGS. At the Derek Lam show a few hours ago, shorts were transformed into panties, and night-gowns were closer to being really frilly yet sophisticated swimsuits. The idea was this: forget to wear the bottom. Yep yep! Look at Taylor right above. How AWESOME is that trend? And guess what, I went ahead and gave myself to it today. After all, someone needs to donate their body to science.

So I experimented with onlookers’ expressions for you.

When I realized that I have the most elegant pose when I’m shooting…

OH MAN. SHE’S CRAZY!!! That’s what everyone seemed to be saying when they saw me. Yep, I had on a jacket, okay good, a little oversized, with a rather short romper… And everyone had the impression I was wearing nothing underneath.  I’m telling you, idea of the century.

Voilà, there’s fashion week for you, it’s a wonderful time where everything is beautiful, everything shiny, and anything goes. A wonderfully joyful time, I love it! I love it. I love it. I love it until the indigestion sets in about a month from now.

In the meantime, show off those legs! You’ll get to hear stuff like this:

“Hey, Garance, you nut! I didn’t even recognize you, and then I recognized your legs!” (Hmmm… Thanks. I’ve got a face too.)

“Hey, Garance! You ok? You forget your pants? (Hmmm… A decent attempt. A little too easy, but a decent attempt.)(I’m really not into it.)(Pffff! what do I care?)

“Hey, Garance! I just totally fell in love with your knees.”

And there you have it! I’m telling you, we’re in for one crazy month! Okay I promise… Today, putting my pants back on. Ha! Big hugs!

And here’s a few photos from the Derek Lam show after the jump, just to prove to you that…

No, I’M NOT CRAZY! Or, at the very least, I’m not the only crazy one. AT LEAST that… Big Hugs!

Translation : Tim Sullivan

Welcome to London, center of the tropics. Get out the fans. It is splendid outside. SPLENDID!

Yep, splendid weather. Especially for everyone else.* Because I spent all day inside my exhibition space, where I spend most of my days sketching on the walls and drinking lattes. The rest of the time, I’m talking about the balance of colors* with Bob, my printer. And then sometimes, I sneak off to go see my friends and have a coffee.**

Yesterday, I gave myself an hour to go see Yasmin. I simply loved her outfit, her awesome accessories (The sunglasses! The surfboard around her neck! The Bracelets! The to-die-for Acne heels!) I don’t know how she’s able to stay so completely herself and so completely fashionable all while being so completely against the grain. I just don’t know! I don’t know. But then, I thought about it,*** and it has to be something celestial. And then I remembered this photo…

So. Are the planets aligned here or what?

So in short, we laughed, talked about a whole bunch of stuff, and then back I went to go draw on my walls.

I told myself*** that what’s awesome when it’s nice out is that even if you can’t go sit outside at a café, the sun really changes things, the ambient energy and the outlook of everyone, you even feel it inside through the windows.

Stepping up on my ladder with my colored pencils in hand, I saw my drawing begin to take form, little by little** ****. I put on some music and sang Phoenix en yaourt***** for hours and hours. I didn’t even see night fall.

Ah la la, beautiful moments…

——-

* SO not cool.

** What a dream!

*** Warning: the return of cosmic philosophy…

**** Tomorrow, my goal in life: take photos: this is the first time I’ve made a drawing bigger than myself!  I have to show you all!

Translation : Tim Sullivan

***** So here’s the translation of Garance’s explanation of en yaourt (in yogurt) that she sent me, “en yaourt, it means in a faux english where you don’t understand anything at all, like ‘I waanagain nanana yes loveeee (you know, like I do all the time.)”

This morning at 4:30 a.m.*, while you were all sleeping **, I was sitting in front of my suitcase, posed in a perfect Thinker by Rodin, but in leopard print boy-shorts and with a cup of coffee in hand.

I was getting ready to jump on a train to London. London, New York, London, Milan. Almost all in a month, three of which are for fashion week. Yoooooooouhouuuu!!!! I’m so exciiiiiiiiiiiited! Yaaaahhhaa! Off we go to adventure! Yeeeessssss long live fashion fashion fashion! Into my arms Kaaaarl! I know you love me (Karl came to congratulate me for my book on Saturday at Colette)(Finally!!!! My idol finally talked to me!!!)(Even when I told him it wasn’t my book he still told me that fine, it was really really really good.)!!! It’s too much too much – yes yes yo la vie in fashion. I’ve got some fashion weekitis!

Woooooooooh!

Woh!

Merde.

BUT WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR***?

Voilà. I talk about fashion all day and yet I still can’t put together a cool outfit to wear on the train. It wouldn’t surprise me if my bags are over the weight limit just on account of my socks again, even though none of my clothes will match after I get there. So I’ll buy whatever I can find to compensate. And then at the same time, I’m getting my bags ready at 4:30 a.m. I mean c’mon.

So you know what I did? At 4:37 a.m.?

I purged my bag. I took out all the stuff that was too complicated, the stuff I’ve only worn once but has potential, way-too-high-heels****. I kept all the best pieces, a few touches of color, and my favorite basics.

And thus my white shirt, freshly ironed.*****

So when I saw Lydia, who came over not too long ago to see me over at the Gap pop-up store (I’m in the middle of getting my exhibit ready! There’s a candycakes boutique just next door! It’s COOL!) with her white shirt and I thought that there is a cosmic connection in the interspace cosmos.*****

She wasn’t wearing it at all the same way as me: totally the opposite, actually, but I loved the way she had of buttoning it up top and letting the bottom flare out. But we rolled up the sleeves exactly the same way. That makes for a cosmic interspace connection, right?

OKAY. Off to sleep for me?  Off to sleep for me.

In the meantime, the lesson of the day given by the sublime Lydia: basics are what you make of them.

Ohhh la la. I REALLY need to get to bed. But here, we’ll do this one thing. You ponder the lesson, I’ll go to sleep.

Okay, big hugs and bonne journée!

—–

* torture

** bastards

*** I’m sendin’ out an SOS.  I’m sendin’ out an SOS. Message in a bottle, yeah.

**** Yes, I ironed it at 5:00 a.m. Don’t ask me what meaning my life has because for the time being, I don’t think I’d have an answer for you.

***** Gimmie a break. I got up at 4:30 this morning. I’m dead tired, fashion weekitis both resulting in Igor, Grishka, and the cosmos talking to me. Help meeeeeee!

Translation : Tim Sullivan

Leather, it’s the best thing you can find to add some provocation to a little dress.

Let your leather get a tad worn, toss in some bare legs, some studs, any and all other biker elements that you can find, the smile of an angel just to show you’re still a sensitive woman, and you’re the fashion top-of-the-pops rock team heaven of the cool way up top way up high in the stars with Kate Moss, Eric Wasson, and… hmm… Vanessa Traina, yep, even her.

Oh man, said like that, I’m getting some inspiration!  I’m heading out, I’m going to rev up the engine on my bicycle.

Big hugs, Bonne journée!

Translation : Tim Sullivan