Spring Break

London Fashion Week is coming to a close and yet again I didn’t manage to witness any of the actual proceedings not in person that is. Chronic man flu seems to have hit rendering me too unwell to venture into the melee down at Somerset House. However this is not to say that I have been standing idly by. Quite the contrary. In  honour of the grand biannual occasion I am posting shots from taken of my own personal Spring Summer 2012 collection.

The shoot is in celebration of Suzieperon Vintage going all official yes thats right!

My wonderful cousin Aisling was again willing to participate as a model and photographer while simultaneously cooking up a Mastechef worthy four course feast for five. Wonder woman hand over your boots and belt I decree you. Also up for a bit of pre dinner costume changes and creativity was the lovely Rina. What a blessing it is to have such talented, gorgeous  and spontaneously willing friends.

We turned the splendid lounge into chaos in no time and worked with speed to get the most from the waning winter light while roommate Ollie waited patiently for the room to be returned to its correct purpose -dining.

The collection includes some very special pieces sourced  in many exotic locations. The blue two piece modelled exquisitely by Rina is a classic piece of sixties tailoring and would not look out place on the Madmen set which returns to the small screen in March. It is by American label Judy and has its original tags still attached. What a find!

The light grew dimmer and our bellies began to grumble. Another rapid flurry of activity later and we all sat down to the magnificent spread and some very diverse yet stimulating conversation.

Fashion, fine food and friends, what a truly fabulous way to spend a Sunday.

The pieces featured and others are available to buy now on My Asos Marketplace.

For further details please go to SuziePeron Vintage

How to bury a wardrobe treasure?

It is with great sadness and lingering denial that I write this post. I want to push past the denial and into acceptance which is why I have chosen to write this post sensing it might help that awkward and difficult transition. “Harvey” as he has been named will not be with me this winter. Harvey is my beloved silver fox fur jacket which I purchased on a glorious April afternoon in Blackrock Market, Dublin back  in 2005. I had toyed with getting a fur for some time so on finding an exquisite 1960’s model in a fetching fashionable short length I unquestionably had to give it a try. The price was a no brainer. For a meagre €20 and I’d pulled a lasting and treasured love.

I thought it might be a tad audacious and so gingerly we appeared out together Harvey and I. It was a chilly winter in Dublin so we became rather attached to each other quite quickly. A chorus of approval greeted us on our every outing and any qualms I had were quelled by how marvelously glamourous it felt not to mention the exquisite warmth and comfort that it provided. I was rocking the Tundra look that first winter.

I liked the sense of excess that it provided. The luxury of a bygone era. I remember once throwing it over some casual ensemble with a pair of flip-flops and being asked

“Who do you think you are, Jennifer Anniston?”

It brought out the exhibitionist in me which is one of the reasons I enjoy clothing so much. Minimalism with precision details was never my thing. I like a statement piece or two or three and my fur coat always made me feel like a million Euro. That was the beauty of him. Harvey went with everything and naturally he was never to be worn without undergarments.

More than anything though it felt like me.

Sadly I was very hard on the poor thing. Tough love I guess you’d call it. Some people are hard on shoes or handbags but I am hard on fur coats. I have had him repaired at least a couple of times and with great apprehension. He is now best fit to keep the bed warm on the coldest of nights. The sleeves are worn through and the collar is well frazzled and so the hunt( pardon the pun) is on for a replacement but as I feel take may take a while I have this beautiful french knit to fill the gap.

Harvey 2005-2001

Acting like Children.

Yesterday I spent the most marvelous afternoon working my butt off in the best possible way. My cousin Aisling graciously agreed to help me shoot photos of my brand new exclusive collection of vintage ladies clothing. No bribes were necessary as Aisling is a like minded woman.

She too loves nothing better than a good old fashioned game of dress up. Her other favourite activity is taking pictures of people dressing up. I really hit the buddy jackpot with this one.

As I waited for her to call to my apartment I did  a rain dissuading dance and then pulled my tiny studio asunder in the quest for props, accessories and outfits for our creative enterprise. She was similarly  inspired and brought with her all manner of fashion enhancing items in her kit bag.

Despite the unwieldy amount of stuff to lug and the intimidating workload I had set out for us we managed get through nearly all the looks by 5pm. The dance must have worked as we were blessed with glorious sunshine for most of the day.

We worked out a nifty system that involved us alternating the roles of model and photographer and then both of us changing our outfits behind the garden fence.

All the while I kept thinking of how great it felt to be 5 years old again. Surprisingly I kept hearing my mother’s voice saying don’t forget you will have to put all of it back when you are finished which I guess shows some evidence that I have matured a little.

It was just like those long passed rainy days indoors. Times when our Mom would encourage us to pull the whole house to pieces in the name of fun, freedom and self expression. She would put on the record player to help us create a  mood. Rummaging is in my blood and has served me well. The delightfully satisfying activity of pulling strange and wonderful  garments out from an ungodly mound and then trying them on is quite simply to me what makes life worth living. Prancing about in them for the day behind a camera with an eager accomplice makes it all the better.

I hope you enjoy the early results of what I hope and feel will be a lasting collaboration.

For information on any of the items please contact me on the Highgate Vintage Facebook page.

Show and Tell.

As there was such a long gap between posts prior to the last few I thought I would just share some of what I’d been doing and wearing besides being insulted by Ryan Air staff and furiously endeavouring  to bring my life here to London.

This is me posing for Photographerer Rebecca Hawkes at The Battersea Vintage Fair last March. This is what I arrived in. Vintage Sears Prairie blouse, high-waisted red red trousers,  very old Dexter cowboy boots and show stopping brown velvet military hat.

I am so happy with the pictures Rebecca took.  So here is another

My trouser ends couldn’t make up their minds about in or out.

Later on I purchased a lovely fifties sun dress from Love ur Look. It’s most striking feature is the print; an artistic abstract flower design in pretty primary shades with charming crayon markings visible. The pockets are such a plus making it oh so wearable.  It fits quite nicely too. This is what I describe as a perfect summer bike dress.

The Thrill of Thrift.

Until such time as I can fathom how pages work, here is where I am going to post some of my more amazing thrift purchases. Thrift shopping includes flea markets, charity shops, second-hand or vintage outlets. Its a talent I have and I want to share it with you lovely people.

To get things rolling I shall start with a possible all-time favourite and aforementioned marvel; my ghetto fabulous, endorphin stimulating,  pan-generational Cameo pants. Since unearthing these extraordinary leggings in a basket at the hugely popular Dublin Flea Market some two years ago I have received an endless channel of compliments, comments and enquiries all of a most positive nature. Last Thursday for example they were appreciated by two members of the fairer sex: one a pensioner the other a two-year-old.

These could be the love of my life or at least a major affair and I can envision the day when I may recall them wistfully to myself. Either that or they go the distance and I am prancing about a la Westwood in them at seventy.

It is rare even for me to get such mileage out of a piece of clothing and there are likely be many more words on the subject because as Michael Jackson quite rightly pointed out back in 1980. Love needs expression. Right?