August 30, 2015 |
Take a moment and visualise a Woody Allen heroine. What does she look like? Nerdy? Let’s say bookish, a little scattered, a little not entirely together. Your bedroom wall is covered in posters of her. She’s all you aspire to be when you grow up and move away from home. And you know that she buys everything in charity shops, and you spend your weekends combing every charity shop you pass and when you look in the mirror it’s still not entirely right. Well, finally, you can be that woman. You can clone her without actually having to steal her DNA. Because you have discovered Gucci. The Gucci woman has changed. She’s no longer an overtly sexy. Yes, she’s still sexy, but in a Diane Keaton-Annie Hall way. She’s the woman (because she is a woman, not a girl) in that buttoned-up, ruffle-fronted dress, in floral chiffon that hits mid-calf. She’s the girl in the corduroy flare with the Fair Isle knitted tank top worn over a masculine shirt, a skinny, sparkly lurex scarf wrapped casually round her neck, a pair of oversized glasses perched on her face. She’s not going to show any skin. She’s comfortable in her own skin. She knows what she wants and what she likes and so refuses to settle for anything less. Because, when you’re dressed in Gucci from head to toe, why would you?
Photographer: Jason Lloyd Evans
