April 21, 2018 |
THINGS YOU SHOULD CHANGE: PART 1. Once upon a time, I met a woman and she smelled old. Not nursing-home old, just dated, like a Spice Girls album cover or a tongue piercing. It’s good to have a signature scent, but be aware: it will age you.
If you are a fully paid-up member of gen X and still wear Thierry Mugler’s Angel, then you reek of the ’90s. You smell of Friends re-runs, Blairite policies and MAC Spice lip liner. You smell like your best years are behind you. If you are 21 and wear Angel today, it’s fine. You smell of sickly sweet youth. You smell like you want to be noticed and for people to admire your abs (you look really good in a crop top). You smell of one-night stands and club toilets and first jobs and independence. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s normal.
Perfume is as accurate as carbon dating and more revealing. It is for this reason I advocate promiscuity when it comes to fragrance. By all means, have a favourite – I always go back to Comme des Garçons’ Avignon – but make sure you cheat on it regularly. Terre d’Hermès, Tom Ford’s Café Rose, Chanel’s Sycomore and Sisley’s Eau du Soir are my bits on the side.
Don’t get stuck in a rut. Spritz on a bit of mystery. Spray yourself with surprise. Experiment. Play. Live a little.
THINGS YOU SHOULD CHANGE: PART 2
I really should change my hair. It’s been like this since 2012. According to John Vial, who has curated my locks for years, these are my options:
1. Change my parting. Simple but the results are radical. Getting someone to change the way they part their hair is like getting someone to change their religion, but it gives an instant new look. Nerds can suddenly look hot. Ageing beauties can knock 10 years off.
2. Cut in a fringe. It has to be really long or really short because on-the-brow fringes are boring.
3. Bleach it. The colour needs to be a flat, neutered, minky blonde, with no warmth – the kind of blonde seen on a 17-year-old Scandi girl who has never dyed her hair. This is the most expensive blonde, because it looks like virgin hair and only the best colourists in the world are able to achieve this coloured/uncoloured look.
I don’t think I’m ready yet…
THINGS YOU SHOULDN’T CHANGE
There’s something to be said for consistency. I recently had tea with the amazing Ian Griffiths, Max Mara’s British creative director. He has worked for the company since he graduated from the Royal College of Art 30 years ago and likes to joke that he’s got the shortest CV in fashion. That length of tenure is unthinkable for most designers these days, where three-year contracts are as good as it gets and houses swap creatives with alarming regularity.
It’s difficult to develop a voice in those circumstances. Creating a nuanced design language takes time, even in the age of truncated communication. Griffiths has been allowed to develop his aesthetic for three decades – the past 10 as creative director. You can’t buy the kind of confidence that gives. He grew up at Max Mara and now it’s in his DNA. He’s blessed with good instincts and wisdom, but has also stayed curious and found a way to talk to each new generation (who doesn’t want one of his Teddy Bear coats?). The lesson? If it still works, don’t change it.
HOW COOL CHANGED
Cool used to be one thing. Then it shifted. I remember when cool was icy. Cool was aloof. Cool was remote, exclusive and unattainable. Cool people were mysterious and cliquey. They wore sunglasses inside and at night. They said, “You can’t sit with us,” because it wasn’t cool to be nice. Cool kept a chilly, brittle edge for years and then it thawed. I blame Instagram for changing the dynamic of cool. Old Cool never sought approval. It didn’t need to be liked. New Cool measures its worth on exactly that.
♥ has become the new currency of cool. Old Cool didn’t want to show off what it had for lunch or let on how pleased it was with its new handbag. It didn’t want anyone to know where it got its vintage YSL from or who it had been out with the night before. It never announced anything. People had to work it out for themselves. Old Cool was elusive. It had to be hunted. New Cool thinks sharing is caring and makes itself accessible to all.
Old Cool never fucked up. It never made a misstep, never broke down. It never cried in the office. It never made goofy Cara faces or took make-up-free selfies. It maintained the pose, no matter what the reality was.
New Cool is emotional. It shows its vulnerability and acne break-outs. It shouts out its support. It is authentic and real. I’m heartened by the inclusivity of New Cool, even though I understand Old Cool best and accept its bitchiness, cruelties and fakery, because it’s what I grew up with.
WHEN YOU DON’T CHANGE BUT THE WORLD AROUND YOU DOES
It’s nice when the world comes round to you. I remember Stella McCartney being pooh-poohed for her ethical stance and her belief in sustainability. Not only was she the daughter of a Beatle, but she wanted us to buy luxury handbags and shoes that weren’t made from leather or fur. “Never!” said the naysayers, clutching their crocodile bags closer to their cold, hard hearts. Meanwhile, McCartney got on with finding desirable alternatives and building up a profitable business.
She hasn’t changed, but the world has. A new generation has grown up caring about ethics and animals. Gucci just gave up fur. Powerful companies such as Kering and H&M have whole departments dedicated to sustainability, and London’s fashion scene thrives with artisan producers remaking, reusing and repurposing what’s around them to make something new.
SMALL PENIS TALES
Something that a guy with a very small penis once told me. He spent his life feeling insecure and wishing it was bigger. He considered surgery, but penis enlargement is painful, has mixed results and can lead to impotence. In the end he decided that the only way he could be happy was if he accepted himself the way he was. He couldn’t change himself but he could change the way he thought about himself.
I still didn’t sleep with him.
THE WISDOM OF KIDS
Just before his birthday, my son said to me, “Mum, I don’t want to become seven.” I was surprised to hear that. When you’re a child, there’s an aristocracy of age. The older kids are always more important and respected. They are able to do things that the younger ones can’t, such as stay up late, ride a bike with no hands or climb to the top of the tallest tree. Most kids are impatient about growing up and attaining these entitlements, but not mine.
“I want to be six forever,” he announced.
“What’s so great about being six?” I asked him.
“Well, Mum,” he said in a teacherly tone, “when you are six, you don’t have to worry about anything.”
My little Peter Pan. He was beginning to realise that age brings responsibility, problems and expectation. He has looked down the road ahead and caught a glimpse of the future. He knows that the time will come when kid privileges are suspended and things will change. It’s the inevitable trade-off for grown-up independence.He’s beginning to understand that life is something you move through. Nothing stays the same. Kids become adults. The trick is to hang on to what matters – that sense of discovery and pride in mastering new tricks, as well as a six year-old’s ability to live in the moment. And laugh at farts. Always laugh at farts.
Text Claudia Croft
Illustration Stephen Doherty
Taken from issue 60 of 10 Magazine, ALAÏA SHIFT POWER NEW, on newsstands now…
