Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Le temps déborde.

I've already implied this in the last article, but lately I've been feeling like my whole relationship to fashion was built upon illusional interpretations and personal fantasies. For instance, I find the fact of being able to see beauty where most of the people can't to be a soothing treat. I most particularly cherish these moments when I run my fingers through newsstands filled in with fashion magazines, grasp one of the less notorious publications, cluelessly look through it, lay my eyes upon an arresting story featuring a model who's hardly ever to be seen and get to recognize the latter in the blink of an eye. It's the comforting feeling of being favoured, as though merged into a weary, hopeless, inhumanity-struck crowd I was given the chance to catch a glimpse of beauty and hold on to this vision, while nobody else could. It may account for my more and more turning my back on foremost publications and models ; I'm clung to this sentiment, as greedy and far-fetched as it is, to the point where I concentrate on discreet, if worthwhile, newfaces and magazines so I can feel like being sighted enough to spot under-the-radar talents while others just get satisfied with what there's (however mediocre it possibly is) at hand. I know, I know. It makes nonsense and sounds like pretentiousness verging on ludicrousness. Though humans in general do (like to) live upon illusions, and that's partly why fashion - and so on and on - exist(ed) in the first place, isn't it.? But it's not the point here, and I'm digressing as per usual. Thing is, I was digitally going through the September / October Wonderland Magazine issue - you can hand it to the Internet to give you a first appealing approach to a magazine contents and plunge you into the dire need of getting ahold of it - when my eyes went across a six-pages long set of photographs - and there it went again : the feeling I mentionned earlier on.

Displaying the Fall / Winter 2010 Cerruti collection, here is India Farrell, whose shots got squeezed into an issue jam-packed with clothing-centered, if subtle, spreads. She exudes a witty vulnerability which can be both distressing and captivating, according to the beholder and their inclination to this kind of beauty. Upon first seeing her I was smitten, without getting my hopes up as to her being propelled full force into the industry (which she hasn't been... yet?), for her tests didn't do her possible ambivalence favour. Then again, test shots (up to editorials actually) tend to reduce models down to a unidimensional definition nowadays, in lieu of enhancing their malleability. But never mind.

Plain backdrop, clothes that probably cost a bomb just because they bear the name Cerruti... - nothing spectacular at first glance, but then India comes into play and takes the editorial up to a new level of drama and ambiguity. Transitionning from being inert and mercy-demanding to being kinetic, the role the model's playing changes altogether depending on the picture you look at : alternately threatened, threatening, impassive. I think this set is interesting when you aim at not only weighing the model's value but also that of the clothes (if you don't happen to overlook them, as I nearly did), in light of the movement or lack of it. Yes, interesting, but also darksome, engaging, perturbing... up to the observer to assign the adjectives they find most suitable to this editorial, to like it regardless general consensus, to see beauty where others might see ghastliness or dullness. Exclusivity.

The entire set here.

While I'm at it, I cannot restrain myself from holding up to view these breathtaking images of Marina Buniaka. No matter how hard I tried to spell out my point - Marina being completely potential-gifted, that is - a few articles back, being convincing when you have no material to rely on but a handful digitals and candids is always a tough task to carry through. So if you were still on the fence, peek at the lookbook lensed by Sarah Piantadosi right above,which is most likely to make you fall head over heels in love with Lithuanian wonder.

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