Inside Style - Fashion Whore

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Inside Style – by Annmarie O'Connor - as featured in The Dubliner - March 31st

I made an unnerving discovery this week. Much to my own chagrin, it appears that my job as stylist is not dissimilar to that of, ahem, a chat line operator, shall we say. 

Just the other day, I found myself nipping into the changing rooms of a preeminent retail establishment to take an emergency call from a client. The audio behind the curtain went something like this, “So what are you wearing?” “Really?” (insert inflection here). “Oh, I prefer you in that little red dress. Can you put that on?” You get the picture.

Upon exiting the velvet drapes, I realised just how loud I am and how a phone conversation out of context can render innocent bystanders speechless.  Note: this folks is how rumours start.  Oddly enough, it got me thinking that there are parallels to be made. In fact much of what I do involves coaxing a client from a sartorial rut through role play and visual stimuli – a theatre of the mind. It just so happened on this occasion to sound like the kind of theatre where one pays for a private booth. 

Slightly mortified at my incident behind the arras, I took solace in a few glasses of Pinot with some friends. “Ever thought of changing from 02 to an 0800 number?” enquired one. “You may as well work that premium rate,” agreed the other. “Why not rebrand yourself as The Clothes Whisperer?” joked the third.  “How supportive of you,” I sneered pouring another glass. “I’m so glad I came.” “Ah now, that’s what your clients are supposed to say.” Cue: much in the way of inappropriate laughter. 

And with that coup de grace, the flashbacks started.   Purring loudly whilst stroking shoes in Harvey Nichols (I’ll be having you Jimmy Choo!), audible noises heard from the Pauric Sweeney concession in Brown Thomas (that would be me), the explosive ‘Oh God!’ each time I see a Tom Ford ad campaign (can’t be helped) – this is all part of my DNA; it just so happens to serve me well in my job.

“So, I’m basically a fashion whore,” I exclaimed somewhat proudly.  “Don’t flatter yourself sweetie,” quipped one of the lynch mob. “I’ve seen your underwear drawer. Marks & Spencer 5 packs do not qualify for Belle du Jour status.  Nothing like a few supportive words to stroke a gal’s ego.

Slashstroke Magazine

A special shout out to David at Slashstroke Magazine whose created these electric illustrations of the Joanne Hynes / Helen Steele AW/11 show. Please do pop by and pay a visit to the blog which also features similar show notes from Irish talent such as Simone Rocha; not to mention some saavy skeletonized street style sketches.

All images courtesy of Slashstroke Magazine

Dot Cotton and Mother's Day - Sun, April 3rd

Looking for that Mother's Day present for the woman who has everything? Why not try Dot Cotton – Cork’s latest clothing concept store. Customers are invited to adapt existing in-house designs or to create their own across fair trade, organic cotton t-shirts, track pants and hoodies. Avail of Dot Cotton’s free in-store design service and create your own Mother's Day designs from just €20!  Get your little one's drawings printed on a t-shirt and create a wearable keepsake! “Oh, I say!” Info:  18B French Church St. Cork; 021 422 2244; www.dot-cotton.com.

Pauric Sweeney and Divine Intervention

I'm not known for my timing. I'm the gal who shows up a day early to parties (it has happened but at least my priorities are straight), a day late to the dentist and who forgets daylight savings (cue: mass panic this morning). This inability to sync in with the cosmos has lead me to miss out on many a sale (Anne Bullitt's vintage wardrobe at Adam's auctioneers comes to mind) , hot date or as my move to London from 2002 - 2006 predicated - an SSIA. As a wise man once said, "them's the breaks!"

What the wise man didn't forsee was a reprival streak where one could recoup time and opportunities lost; mine so happened to be this week. A hot tip from Irish Tatler about a Pauric Sweeney sample sale came over my desk and low and behold - I actually had some cash in the attic to spare this time. Defying the laws of gravity, time and space continuum et al, I managed to get from Kimmage to Fitzwilliam Square South about five minutes early without my feet actually touching the ground (Dublin Bus beware!) and slapped my name on a metallic snakeskin beauty. When I came back the following day to pay for and collect my winnings, I found two ladies (gasp!) posing with my baby in the mirror! Too late missus - that bad boy is mine! (Mind you I didn't actually say that but my interior monologue can be very dramatic.) I am now the proud owner of a Pauric Sweeney bag. I'd like to thank the universe for rewiring me to the greater sartorial consciousness. Next stop, dinner with Antonio Marras, a wardrobe swap with Anna dello Russo and free shoes for a year from Net-a-Porter.

Sunday Times Style - Fashionably Mum

Pick up a copy of Style magazine today with The Sunday Times and have a goo at some of Ireland's fashionable mothers and how they balance kids with style kudos.

Words and styling: Annmarie O'Connor
Photography: Andreas Pettersson; assisted by Philip White
Make-up: Kate O'Reilly
Hair: Maurice Flynn

Annmarie's assistant: Ellen Quinn Banville

Inside Style - Cosmic Spite?

Inside Style-  by Annmarie O'Connor - as featured in The Dubliner magazine - March 24th

 I received a sign from the universe the other day - my wallet refused to open.  Somehow the clasp seized and held captive my credit cards, discount cards, coffee loyalty cards (disaster!) and a wad of cash I wrenched from the mouth of an ATM that day. It look a pliers, a screwdriver and brute force to prise open the recalcitrant receptacle and retrieve said tools of retail therapy.

The fusillade of scattered notes and plastic demanded a new home but the idea of purchasing another Comme des Garcons creation, only to have it pillaged in an act of cosmic spite, was anathema. This act of fashion violence would never happen again – I was determined. 

With this I went on a scavenger hunt. Beneath a disused Slendertone, several pairs of lurex tights and a mirrored iPhone cover lay an utterly vile PVC floral purse. How it became ingratiated in my tightly-honed temple to the sublime is anyone’s guess (so are those MBTs) but its presence was utterly heart-warming. Its sheer ugliness would act as an insurance policy against theft, loss or damage; and its wipe-clean surface the perfect ruse for spilled Bald Barista lattes (I’m simply not that co-ordinated in the morning).

Inspired by serendipity and the prospect of never having to defile Napa leather again, I decided to road test my new accessory.  “Jesus, what the hell is that,” enquired a frank friend as a few of us gathered in a bar unnamed for some Saturday night drinks. “It’s my new wallet; you like?” Silence. “Did you steal that from Martha Stewart,” importuned another.  “Ha ha. This is my anti-theft, anti-damage, anti-loss device. It’s so brutal, if I left it here on the bar, no one would touch it for fear of catching the ugly.” 

“Go on Miss Social Anthropologist, I dare you,” decreed the group. And with that I put my money where my G&T was and stood back to see what would happen.  Within seconds an arm appeared from the crowd holding the offending article. “Here missus! You left your wallet on the bar!” “Thanks,” I said, regretful that my plan had gone awry. “Next time be more careful,” reprimanded the hand. “Your granny will kill you if you lose that thing.” Cue: pointing, laughing, a turgid ‘told-you-so’ chorus. Anti-theft, anti-loss, anti-damage; if only I had anticipated public humiliation.

The Fashion Motto - Lovita Graham

I had the pleasure of meeting fashion blogger, writer and photographer Lovita Graham backstage at London Fashion Week. She took some amazing shots of the Joanne Hynes / Helen Steele show and also ran a great Q&A with Joanne too. These shots were taken of me on the cobbles of Somerset House. Not bad considering I hadn't slept for...at that stage...30 hours! I'd like to thank Lovita for featuring me and would urge you to visit her blog The Fashion Motto for a look at fashion's female innovators. A x

Image: Robert Pugsley @ TheFashionMotto.com

R.I.P. Liz Taylor

I am shocked and saddened at the passing of one of Hollywood's most iconic legends - Liz Taylor. Arrestingly beautiful, talented and passionate, her roles both on and off screen have inspired so much and so many.  I once acted in a university production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and literally studied her role as Martha endlessly. Of course, there wasn't a hope in hell I'd ever be able to approximate such chaotic raw energy (those scenes with Richard Burton are so messy; so brilliant!) but that Southrern rawness never ceased to amaze me. Let's not forget her role as Cleopatra (again with Burton), her unparalleled role as ambassador in generating awarenss of the HIV/AIDS virus, adoration of diamonds, collection of husbands (good woman!) and oh, those violet eyes. Ms. Taylor, you most certainly were one helluva dame! R.I.P. x

The Legend

Pic: Richard Avedon

Cleopatra

I Blog Fashion - Break Thru Radio

Coffee, doughnut and Style magazine - the perfect way to begin a sunny Sunday morning and end the St. Patrick's Day weekend. Although festivities were curtailed by a rather inopportune sore throat which put a halt to my patriotic gallop on Thursday, I did however have the pleasure to speak to DJ Marie of Break Thru Radio in NYC last Friday regarding Irish fashion. CLICK HERE to have a listen; and to enjoy some great homegrown indie music talent. PS - our own BP Fallon hosts a great slot on BTR; well worth tuning in.

PPS - an added thanks to Paul Galvin for his nod to I Blog Fashion in today's Sunday Indo. :)

LISTEN TO BREAK THRU RADIO HERE. 

Inside Style - Feng Shui

Image courtesy of Accessfengshui.com

Inside Style by Annmarie O'Connor - as featured in The Dubliner - March 16th

Feng Shui. That’s Chinese for spiritual spring cleaning. Having stockpiled enough clothes to clad a new model army, I felt it seasonal to shed my room of clutter and introduce some positive vibes. If only it were that easy.

As a hardened hoarder, my ability to stash and accumulate is unrivalled; letting go is the tricky bit. Faced with culling seasons of styles that could well warrant its own hunting licence, my separation anxiety is rife as even the most dated duds seem replete with special meaning.

“Not the gold lame leggings,” I plead. My sister ignores my petitions and feeds the American Apparel atrocities to a hungry black plastic sack. “I don’t think you’re capable of making good decisions,” she chides, whilst grabbing anything that doesn’t resemble girls called Margaret Howell, Chloe or Celine.  I feel violated. Years of squirreling away fads and fashion, only to have my stash pillaged by the capsule wardrobe queen. Grrr...

“I’m thinking we may have to pay Oxfam to take these,” admonishes the grand elder.  “Excuse me. Those fourteen bags represent the equivalent of years in time and money!” And with that I feel the heavy hand of irony wallop me in the face.

Maybe this clothing compost was obscuring my view of the big picture. According to the principles of Feng Shui (found in a book underneath a pile of cashmere sweaters), ridding oneself of old stagnant energy or ‘qi’, allows for a new flow of life experiences – and an excuse to go shopping I’d imagine.  All that’s left is to organise the room to maximise love, career, health and happiness.

My wardrobe fittingly belongs in my fame sector. Although truth be told, it takes up the entire room as it doesn’t fit anywhere. Moving along....  My career area houses scores of shoes and jewellery, while my North-East ‘helpful people and travel’ section sports a Diane Vreeland biography and Time Out guides to Paris, London and New York. Despite the landfill of wedges, leather jackets and vintage dresses, it seems on some synergistic level, I’ve already been hotwired to the higher consciousness.

 “I may be a pack-rat,” I state smugly, “but I’m still very in tune with the cosmos. “Is that so?” replies the wise woman. “You may want to have a word with the cosmos about these spider webs in your relationship corner then.” Ouch.

Inside Style - Holy Spirit of Style

Image courtesy of HolyShirts.net

Inside Style - by Annmarie O'Connor - as featured in The Dubliner - March 10th 
 
Communions and confirmations. Around this time every year several pint-sized members of my family experience some religious rite of passage.  Despite being quite experienced in the art of church dressing (2009’s hat-rick of consecutive weekend communions saw me in good stead), I'm struck for the umpteenth time with the issue of what to wear.

It's not like I can dock up in last season’s glad rags. We're family after all and there are several extenuating factors to bear in mind: formal church dress etiquette, protective covering for outside photographs, impressing relations you see at such ad hoc gatherings. This year also sees me front and centre as sponsor (a.k.a. Spiritual Guide) to my ten year old niece which means a more pious effort on my part. Tough brief.

I'm thinking maybe I should just cast aside tradition and make a bold statement. The ‘Mary is My Homegirl’ t-shirt I bought in Portobello Market could do nicely under a Stella McCartney suit. The message is unapologetic whilst also being ‘down with the kids’. Not too sure how the congregation would feel about that.  Perhaps my Complex Geometries hooded cloak dress from Browns Focus would do. Grace Jones meet Cistercian monk? Maybe? Er...not.

On these occasions, it would appear that caution is its own reward. My role as godmother fifteen years ago still haunts me – a scrunched head of long curls, brown velvet jacket, matching trousers and striped shirt resulted in a Cher / Superfly hybrid. Whether I was about to break into a rendition of ‘Turn Back Time’ or a Curtis Mayfield ditty was anyone’s guess. With that, it’s probably best to forget the curious incident of the church candles and my chiffon sleeves.

Not that I’m a Celine fan, but there’s something to be said for bland and inoffensive. Although it flies in the face of everything I believe in (and have crammed into my wardrobe), I may have to go the way of our subdued and stylish Gallic counterparts. No bells, no whistles, just plain dressing. Yawn.

Then again, if anyone does get the hump with my wardrobe choices (six foot stacked platforms anyone?), I’m in the right place. Something tells me that the confessional may not be quite the place for admitting one’s hyperstyling penchant. Forgive me Father, it’s been several years since I last bought anything basic.  I wonder how that would wash?

Jeremy Scott for Swatch - Paris Launch

This week I was invited as a guest of Swatch Ireland to attend the Jeremy Scott Swatch launch in Colette boutique. As collaborations go this is on the money with three styles of avant-garde army candy inspired by pop culture excess: Lighting Flash, Winged Swatch and Swatch Opulence.  Scott's trademark wings also make a cameo fittingly reflecting 'how time flies' says the Missouri native. It was fitting that the soiree took place in Paris which Scott refers to as 'mon deuxième pays'.  After a few glasses of champagne and some Jeremy Scott / Swatch inspired hors d'oeuvres (no pics - I ate them all!), the party relocated to L'Arc restaurant including international Swatch members, journalists from i-D to The  Daily Telegraph and Scott's personal friend Leigh Lezark.. Well worth the 5am cab ride to Charles de Gaulle the following morning!

Jeremy Scott / Swatch watches are available in Ireland from Swatch, Grafton Street (01 672 9455), Weir & Sons (01 677 9678) and other stockists nationwide. www.swatch.com.

Colette Window

The Goods

The man himself

The fans

Signed watch

L'Arc de triomphe at night

Crowds outside Colette

Jeremy and I

Branding

View from my hotel room

L'Arc restaurant

Ms. Bardot at L'Arc

The t-shirt says it all!

Inside Style - Kate and Wills

Inside Style - by Annmarie O'Connor - as featured in The Dubliner - March 3rd

 Kate is the new GaGa. According to a new internet survey, fashion’s favour has clearly swung from the avant-garde to Middleton of the road. It would appear the new princess-in-waiting has pulled Google rank in SEO rankings, dethroning The First Lady (and now second place) Gaga. According to my calculations, that leaves me seven weeks to get some wear out of those Alexander McQueen armadillo boots before donning an Issa dress and kitten heel sling backs. I can’t say my feet won’t be relieved.

It was only a matter of time though, wasn’t it? There’s only so far one can go as an artist after wearing a Jean Charles de Castlebajac frock made of Kermit the Frog dolls; and everyone knows the sell-by-date of a meat dress. As for the Royal Demure, there’s no fear of pushing boundaries as one simply doesn’t push after all. Or does one?

If whispers can be believed, the soon-to-be Mrs. Mountbatten-Windsor is receiving a crash course in being a royal which one would presume also extends to sartorial propriety. Bucking convention doesn’t seem to be the done thing at Buckingham Palace as the recent furore surrounding her decision to wear a black dress to a friend’s wedding would suggest. If that’s the case, aul Liz must be busting a gut at artist Rich Simmons’ depiction of the couple on London’s Southbank as Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungeon. Leopard print, biker jackets and dog collars – quite. Still, with rumours of Victoria Beckham dressing Kate for her honeymoon, one may well see the birth of a savvy fashion coalition. (Not exactly media shy our Posh.)

If Lady Gaga wants to regain any ground, she’ll be forced to reinvent herself as a mega royal hybrid; ideally one with the multiple lovers of Catherine the Great and a personal couture budget to rival that of Queen Raina. She could buy titles for the House of Gaga serfs on www.royaltitles.com and create her own fashion monarchy (just $197 with a 12-month guarantee!).

Once her court has been established, she’ll engage in a diplomatic outreach with her rival, even agreeing to take tea at Buckingham Palace; but in a shrewd volte face, she’ll arrive covered in jumpsuit made of toy corgis. There again, she could always just opt for a twin set and pearls; but where’s the fun in that?