garance doré » Giovanna Battaglia

Rouge Baiser

Garance — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 05:50:12 +0000

Not once during the entire frantic month of September when I didn’t have a second to myself, did I have the chance to take care of my hands.

Not once during the frantic month of September when I didn’t have a second to myself, did I have the chance to call my friends.

Yesterday, I went to go get a new phone. I got one with a speaker-phone. And now, I can call all my friends. And while we’re talking about our lives, gossiping, railing against our men, experiencing ecstasy over Givenchy, while we cry and while we laugh, I can take care of all ten fingers and paint my nails red.

To take care of your friends… is to take care of yourself!

Big hugs les amis, bonne journée!

Translation : Tim Sullivan

Snip! Snap! Fashion attack!

Garance — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 05:26:22 +0000

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

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ps : picture of me and pictures of the Derek Lam show by Scott.

Oh ! Ah ! Giovanna !

Garance — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 05:47:56 +0000

In an article I wrote recently for a magazine, I talked about some of the women whose style most inspires me. Among them, of course, was Giovanna. I talked about her incredible wardrobe, her eternal good humor and her tomboy side. Then off it went.

A few minutes later, I get an e-mail my editor, “Hmmm… Garance? When you say tomboy, what exactly are you trying to say?”

I look at the pictures of Giovanna I sent. Ah. Hmmm. Okay…

Yeah.

Heels, skirts, hairdos, accessories… As for her tomboy side, my dear editor, you may have a point there. I’ll have to explain that a little.

It’s just that Giovanna can wear whatever she wants and she still stays Giovanna. Always, and never the same, with her hair down or up, in a parka or evening gown, never a fault in her taste, she is the incarnation of the famous adage that we are all so tired of hearing, mostly just because it’s true: Fashion comes and goes. Style stays.

Giovanna has an undefinable allure. The essence of her style is, I think, her indestructible coolitude. (Right there, it’s definitely not a quote from Coco Chanel, but from me. That has to be my indefinable writing style.)

Her coolitude, her lovely laughter. And her irresistible smile.

Gio’, you’re simply the best! Got it now, dear editor? Off I go! bonne journée!

Translation : Tim Sullivan

Cat Steps

Garance — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 07:08:18 +0000

Above all, don’t listen to me. Do the opposite of everything I say. I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m dramatic and sublime, I am everything and its opposite, but I always fall back on my feet. I am I am… I am fashion.

Bah voilà. It’s fashion’s fault. One day she gives me the desire for simplicity and flats, and the next day she’s dazzling me with dizzying thigh-high boots, endless legs, silky harem pants, animal prints to burst out of Noah’s ark and too much becomes exactly what I need, what I love, just like this :

And then I go all Rachel Zoe on her : “Giovanna! No, but you can’t go making your self a giant signet ring with your name on it? You’re out of your mind! That’s so awesome! I gotta get my hands on one of those babies, right now! And these pants… Rah, you going to get me wearing all these prints, I just love them!!! Where did you find them, hmmm? C’mon, who made ‘em, who, who, who?”

“What? Kate moss for TopShop!! Shit, okay. But look at me, I’m about to pass out. You see the distress on my face, here? I’m freaking out! Quick, someone get me a computer. There any left on the site?” Giovanna cracks up at my hysterical little fashion speech.

Calm myself? Chill out? In the middle of a moment of utter post-recession wisdom? Bah, okay. In the end, it depends on where we are. Don’t think I don’t notice when I get those hunger-pains for thigh-highs at four in the morning, a few untimely clicks over at Yoox, some irrepressible shoe urges and the slightly disgraceful desire to copy everything of my favorite stylists.

All that, it’s also got something to do with the force of seeing a whole bunch of shows, loving things, hating things, having no idea what to think of things, having an opinion in general and then finding once again that I’ve understood nothing after reading morning and night the wonderful columns of Suzy Menkes and Cathy Horyn, with whom I’ll always agree, even when they don’t agree with themselves. Okay, in short, I’m OD’ing a little on fashion. I’ve been taken by a fierce fashion fever.

So what? When you catch that care-free bug, it doesn’t control you, no? Outside of that, I have to tell you all about my latest purchase, how it happened and why. Givenchy over at Zara, hmmm, you know, I just had to… and I’m lovin’ it to death.

Bonne journée!

Translation : Tim Padraic Sullivan

Pure Morning

Garance — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 07:03:09 +0000

Fashion week mornings are not like regular mornings. Usually, up at the same time, I’m in my t-shirt on my couch, steaming cup of tea in hand and working on my computer. Fashion weeks, I’m in the shower, eyes half open, hair in my mouth, in my t-shirt, steaming cup of tea in ha….. ouh merde.

With my cup….. in the shower. Voilà, this is the sort of thing that comes up during fashion weeks.

Oui. These are the mornings the doctors will say that I have been diagnosed with exhaustion, I already have 236 e-mails to write, 12 days of letters to open, my mom, who I have to give a pep-talk to on the other line because she’s been hunting me down for however many days, and I needed to have left 25 minutes ago. And on top of all that, gotta be chic.

But not only chic. Chic-cool-hip-classy-sexy-trendy-without being too much because, well, the times, they are a changin’, and you just can’t exaggerate like you used to.

And of course comfortable. Because even if I, myself, have the tendency to forget it, I take photos. Which means I walk, I move, I bend over, I break my mouth open, and I run… Because I’m always late.

And yet, in this rather sectioned off socio-cultural backgroup (slimness appreciated, scan the outfit north to south, south to north, and there’s that wit that just kills in the early morning (“Oh… Hello… They still haven’t found your bags?”)), what is style? I should have developed the art of putting together the perfect outfit a long time ago.

I’m talking about simple outfits, easy to live-in, with a little detail that brings it all together, beautiful, simple, perfect.

If you see what I’m saying…

Mais non. Not at all. I get out of the shower, still mug in hand, sometimes with some conditioner still in my hair (yeah, that too, happens often enough). I get an idea for a great outfit. I look for the pieces, and then I remember that the southern hemisphere of my outfit is in the laundry. I try to find a different outfit, put some things together, there are a few ohs and a few ahs but nothing is quite as great as my great outfit. So I start trying on everything I have in mind. Nothing goes. I take care to put on a pretty spectacular show, throwing all my clothes to the ceiling around in circles and create the type 5 hysterical atmosphere of the backstage of a runway show (but all by myself.). I’m sweating here. I feel like I need to get back in the shower. Calm yourself. Breathe. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.

I finally hunt down a fine outfit, normal (= boring) and I’m off, but of course, not without forgetting to put make up on, do my hair, and bring all my invites to the runway shows.

Oui, voilà, voilà. All of the daily neglects of the Parisian summed up in a few lines. It’s quite simple in the end.

And yet…

No but look at these girls. Are they not pure chic-cool-hip-classy-sexy-trendy-without being too much? Each one in her own different style. A pair of colorful shoes, a pair of fingerless gloves, or a pair of shorts. For goodness sake, it all make sense, no?

—————–

Alors, otherwise, I have something to tell you guys and I’ll certainly talk about it more later because all of this has been a rather interesting little adventure… but for the moment, I am too stressed out to talk about it, and also because I never know how these things turn out. It’s kind of a big deal… I dunno.

If it is as they say it is, today, I have my portrait in the Libération.** Yep, on the last page. But my goodness my goodness. I’m not going to be able to see it before I get to Paris around 3:00 or so, and I can tell you very honestly that I am going to book it to the first newsstand with some fear. I really have the impression that it will give a good sense of… Wait. We’ll talk about this again later. In any case, now you know, and if you feel like giving it a quick look…

Voilà, that’s all for today. And now, time for me to go get dressed. ahahaha!

Bonne journée!

Translation : Tim Padraic Sullivan

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**Translator’s note: The Libération is a daily newspaper that was founded by Jean-Paul Sartre (pretty cool right off the bat, no?). It’s right up there with Le Monde and Figaro. The last page serves as a who’s who of Parisian culture.

Upper East Side

Garance — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 06:09:13 +0000

Ah, This’ll teach me. I talked about the sun too much. Which of course meant that yesterday was a beautiful downpour of a day in true Parisian style. Though here, when you are in the middle of a skirt-alert in an oncoming gust of wind, when your camera is enjoying its little scuba trip, and when your umbrella is… umm… Oh merde where is it? Here, you can jump in a taxi and watch the lights of the city go by through fogged up windows.

And you’re lost in the beauty of it all, scarfing down a pack of peanut butter M&Ms. Where you are headed bears no importance. Oh wait, yes it does, you’re on your way from Micheal Kors to Oscar de la Renta. Oscar de la Renta, one of the only shows that took place in an old church, very chic, and on the very chic Upper East Side.

Shame it never rains on the show, otherwise I could’ve believed I was on Gossip Girl.

Yesterday then, a rainy day but a chic day. A day when after some trash shows of avant-garde, of 80’s, 90’s revivals, you get yourself to Oscar de la Renta and everything is put back into perspective. It was my first Oscar de la Renta show and I was totally into it. Even if it wasn’t his best, no worries. I let myself be completely charmed by his femme élégante, timeless, and duly gloved and synched.

And here’s what brings me to my sssssssssubject du jour, accessories. Listen up ladies, if there is still time, dart over to the last markdowns of the season and get yourself some gloves, headscarves and belts. If they are shiny and golden, if they are bright and colory, even better. I get the feeling that it’s going to be the must have next winter.

That, and fur… and big jewelry.

Gotta be bourgeois chic. But here’s the question, and it’s for one Giovanna, who can where all that and still be cooler than cool, how do you do it without finding yourself disguised as Saint Bernadette?

The solution? All-out color. Okay, more on that later, you in?

Bisou!

Translation : Tim Padraic Sullivan

Regain

Garance — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 07:10:29 +0000

The idea is to cover up with tights, a coat, a scarf and all those things that keep you warm, then slip on a dress and forget that it’s almost winter and it’s now snowing in Paris.

Mais non! I’m not totally crazy ! I do this very often during this time. I start the day with gray as my color base (because gray happens to be my fav…okay, you got that), tights, turtleneck shirt, gloves, thick socks and all that.

They’re good enough for going out since I’m appropriately dressed to brave the biting cold.

But to appease the fashion gods up above (Of course, they’re watching me. And I bet they are watching you, too!), I put on a colored dress. Or a skirt. From winter, summer, spring…. Anyway, what does it matter if I’m already warm and cozy? Chick yellow, meadow green, apricot orange…

Oh, what fun it is to just to say all those shades..

For my outerwear, I put on my Gap puff-jacket. Yes, the same color as Taylor T’s. I’m crazy about it; love it so much that I have the feeling I’m giving you a super-cool piece of advice. Hip-hip-hooray for my big heart !

Soon after, I make my way out the door and walk on the streets, happy and gay as a coco sorbet (?) in springtime, strutting like the super-amazing Giovanna c’mon, let’s not talk about her shoes—Battaglia. Yeah right, Gio. I’m pretty sure the gods are looking in her favor. Don’t you agree?

Bonne journée!

Translation : Magali Eva Suárez.

less is more

Garance — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 06:23:27 +0000

Sorry, this entry is only available in Français.

Giovanna

Garance — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 06:34:44 +0000

Sorry, this entry is only available in Français.

La mode est bleue comme une orange

Garance — Mon, 21 Jan 2008 00:08:39 +0000

Sorry, this entry is only available in Français.