Three Things: Detachments, Creative Social, Kitsune X Mackintosh

Since graduating this summer, things have been surprisingly hectic, leaving this poor blog open to substantial neglect. Now, I'm not the most zealous blogger around (evident by the lengthy gaps of laziness - or 'hiatuses') but I figured if there was any point in keeping this project alive, I'd have to bite the bullet and put fingers to keys. With the sea of great material floating about the web, providing you with a twice weekly bite-sized chunk featuring three picks of creative goodness might just do the trick. I make no promises however, so take the 'twice weekly' part with a pinch of salt.

Detachments - Holiday Romance Video
Theres nothing like grainy imagery and french subtitles, to hark memories of great British seaside holiday nostalgia. Well, according to Detachments anyway. The haunting vocals however, complement the drab footage to create an altogether more atmospheric affair.



Creative Social
Held twice a year, Creative Social is an peace summit-esque meeting of creative minds. Whilst that may sound like a bit of a pretension-fest, the following few minutes contain some pretty inspiring discussions featuring some of the worlds most intelligent creative thinkers.



Kitsuné X Mackintosh
French creative house Kitsuné have teamed up with Mackintosh, purveyors of the quintessential British raincoat (lovingly named the 'mac'), for Fall/Winter 2010. The collection of three coats have been designed to represent the energy of three cities: Tokyo, Paris, and London, whilst still adhering to the elegant cut and functional details of the classic garment.

Image Credit: Kitsuné Blog

The drinks are on the Creators Project

Last week, I managed to nab a couple of guestlist places to the Creators Project Party hosted by Vice and Intel. So managing to coax a few mates to don their glad rags under the promise of free booze, a favourable line up, and cutting edge art installations, we headed out on an early saturday evening to Victoria House in Bloomsbury. What followed was a relatively raucous affair, and upon sight of the open bar, we were like four hyperactive kids who had just been locked in Hamleys for the night.

The making of Louis Vuitton x FIFA World Cup

This video is a designer bootlegger's dream. In just over two and a half minutes, we see the process taken by Louis Vuitton to transform a few planks of wood, a few yards of leather adorned in their iconic print, and a couple of gold bits and bobs, into possibly the most valuable carry case in the world. That's right, in true Blue Peter spirit, now you can have a go at making your own version of the custom World Cup trophy case commissioned by FIFA, unveiled to the world by Naomi Campbell last month.

In my opinion, FIFA should use it with caution. Seeing as the World Cup has already been unceremoniously shafted twice in its history, carting the trophy around in Louis Vuitton's ubiquitous monogram case is probably not the best deterrent for those looking to get their grubby mitts on the golden beaut. Whats more, who's to say that an LV toting WAG won't mistake the case as her own? I reckon that whoever the unfortunate victim is would be horrified at the prospect of finding a huge lump of gold occupying the spot where their beloved mutt 'Cinderella' was once peacefully laid.

Muggs

Ah, the modern man. We are the new breed. Well groomed, sensitive, level headed, masculine. We wake up every morning, empowered and strong, standing resilient in light of the world and it's adversities wearing - wait what...UGG'S?! WTF.

Now spotting someone who has bought into this retarded take on the 'fashion statement' is somewhat of a rarity (It is akin to how often you walk past a tramp who has a glass eye and a wooden leg, with the feelings of pity and disgust being equally similar), but whilst out today, I spotted not one, but TWO offenders. In the same place. Within metres of each other. Don't judge me for thinking the rapture would surely follow short.

Let me tell you my problem with any penis owner (or not, as it seems) making a conscious decision to wear Ugg's. Not only are you parading around in boots that have risen to prominence thanks to the female population, but prolonged use makes your ankles look like you suffer from acute arthritis. I understand that the great thing about fashion is that each individual interpretation is subjective, but when everyone around is looking at you like you have 'I'M A MASSIVE DOUCHE' written in indelible ink across your forehead, surely one would take that as hint of a no no.

In short, let the girls have this one. Just like thongs, short shorts, and make up, some things are better left to the fairer sex. You may state comfort as the method to your madness, but it's not like we live in a society where walking over hot coals is the norm for the daily commute. Do your gender a favour.

Image source: Google images

Gospel truth

OK, so this is old, and a pity that it forms part of a Belvedere campaign; but listen to Terry Richardson as he preaches the gospel truth about good taste in a mere 55 seconds.


Terry Richardson on Luxury and Taste from standardatl.com on Vimeo.

the cost of success?

I'd be pretty embarrassed if I was Fearne Cotton walking down the street, spotting myself in that uncomfortable looking pose with a massive blue penis ejaculating all over my chin. I'd also be kicking myself as I thought I made a rather successful crossover from being a spunky saturday morning children's presenter to interviewing real celebrities such as Paris Hilton, only to realize that I'm not as 'down with the kids' as I originally thought.

But I (actual me, not Fearne me) don't really fault her. Success will always come at the cost of looking like a total dickhead (literally) at some point. Hopefully one day I'll reach those withering heights of success. And I can only pray that when it is my turn to sell my soul in this pursuit, it'll be in an activity that won't warrant a cock in my face.

41 days

It has been a whole 41 days since I clicked the 'New Post' button. I would like to say that the reason for the hiatus was because I decided to disappear for a while to live with an amazonian tribe in hope of learning the ways of the jungle. I didn't. I could also say I got completely immersed in some underground subculture full of non stop raves, wild sex antics, punks and piercings. But I haven't. No, in all brute honesty, my last 41 days have been somewhat akin to the way homeless people decide to live their lives. Albeit with a roof over my head, but in other words, a WASTE.

OK, maybe a bit extreme. I have actually taken note of the following things in the last 41 days.

1. I am 21. FUCK I AM 21.
2. I am now being punished with a two day recovery time after one major night. It's basically a 'grow the fuck up' slap across the face from the drinking gods.
3. If you spill drinks over your laptop, they WILL die. Cue annoying insurance lady.
4. The rather strange growth in popularity of wearing 3D glasses from Avatar as a fashion trend. Mysterious.
5. I will be joining the 'real' world in 6 months. FUCK I AM 21 WITH ZERO JOB PROSPECTS.
6. The Prodigy are, and always will be, the dogs bollocks. Woi oi saveloy.

death by sales

Forget christmas spirit. The scene at Selfridges on boxing day was more reminiscent of the Hillsborough disaster than a department store sale, with people clambering over each other to grab the first ill-fitting garment that made it into their peripheral vision. Sure, I can remember being 15 and the joys of blowing all my christmas money on cut price designer gear or something of the sort, but as I stood there wedged between a rudeboy and a grandma all I could think was: Why the fuck would you want to do this?

10 Reasons Why You Should Never Ever Ever Bother With The Sales

1. Because you'll probably never wear that shitty t-shirt one size too big.

2. Because that 16 year old chav over there with his hood up and hand down his pants will be wearing that same t shirt in a weeks time.

3. Because after you hit 18, there is a wonderful thing called debt which allows you to purchase goods at full price whenever you want. Fuck the system, go nuts.

4. Because all the good stuff is usually gone after the first day, and the first day also brings out the most blood-thirsty, mentally unstable 'bargain hunters' who WILL fuck you up for those half price jeans.

5. Because that gang behind you has probably just stolen your wallet.

6. Because by buying that shiny silver jacket for 50% off, you are paying for the rest of it with your dignity.

7. Because no one likes desperation. It's awkward. Save it for the mid life crisis.

8. Because you see that last bargain pair of jeans you bought one size too small, when you managed to squeeze into them holding your breath? Have fun wearing them on an daily basis.

9. Because sales assistants will think and treat you like you're the spawn of satan. Thats right, THE SCUM OF THE EARTH.

10. Because sale purchases will not change your life. No matter what Selfridges says.

Shop at your peril.

winter wonderland

Sorry its been a bit quiet round here on the blogging front. Apart from the preset Vice message, I haven't really had the time (been arsed) to update my humble piece of webspace. But blog I promise from now on, not to drop you and pick you up when I fancy like a cheap whore. Promise.

I got back into London late last night and the snow here is crazzzzyy. Now I'm usually a fan of snow, but walking through it with my life in my backpack, looking like a total mug taking babysteps to avoid slippage, isn't exactly disneyland. Come to think of it, snow has the potential to turn people into disturbed socially inept hermits unable to leave their homes. Mark my words, that innocent looking snow can and will ruin your life.

I did however today, in between random napping and christmas tv-ing, stumble across a pretty fly number to add to the christmas wish list.


guarantees to add 2 inches of human height for any shorties out there

I have big plans for tomorrow, main one being leaving the house. I will not be defeated by this bastard snow and I need to break this self destructive cycle of sleeping and lazing. I WILL wake up at a normal time and I WILL buy something decent to wear for christmas dinner. I will.

how to pre pre drink

That is the pre drink, before the pre drink, before the club. To get involved you'll need cheap cider, 3 for £10 4 pack beers, face paint, bad teeth, a cake and a lot of nerve. Heres how we put our ingredients to use:

Step 1: Apply vomit inducing, borderline racist yellow face paint whilst carefully taking swigs from your £7.27 bottle of asda dark rum.





Step 2: Add bad teeth and fake ears to the mix.




Step 3: Introduce the cake. Nothing beats cake and booze.



Voila! There you have our dysfunctional and slightly disturbing take on the pre pre drink. You'll know it was successful when your crouched over a sink in the toilets of a dive club at 2am, frantically rubbing yellow paint off your face until you only look slightly jaundiced - rather than a dickhead.


P.S. we actually went out looking like this.

blackberry who?

My iphone's seen better days. I managed to scratch the hell out of the back by generally not giving a fuck so I tried to cover it with a sticker, and managed to scratch that to death too! Ah well, what it lacks in resale value it makes up for in character...

Quick note, if any of you are 18-21 and interested in being in the opening of the next series of Skins head over to http://www.e4.com/takepart/skins4filming.html