Dressful

In the midst of colourful Christmas-time shops overflowing with decorations, each window of Stephen Jones' millinery salon in Covent Garden displays only two hats against white background. In the left window sits a ladies headpiece made of what is best described as cerulean blue leafs reaching up to the sky. It's so extraordinary that even the plain black bowler hat next to it begins to seem suspicious.

Stephen Jones is Britain's most famous milliner next to Philip Treacy. His whimsical, witty and playful hats are made in the workshop in the basement of the salon, with a pinch of surrealism that reminds me of Elsa Schiaparelli. The milliner's other connection to surrealism is Gala Dalí, who used to be his client. More contemporary fans include Madonna, Dita Von Teese, Gwen Stefani, Kylie Minogue, and the late Isabella Blow and Anna Piaggi.

In 30 years of designing, Stephen Jones has worked with almost every major fashion house you can think of. He's been getting a lot of press lately for his collaborations with Marc Jacobs, both on Jacobs' eponymous line and his Autumn/Winter 2012 collection for Louis Vuitton. However, many still remember Jones for his 15-year contribution to the opulent theatrics of John Galliano's Dior.

The runway is a show, therefore it can afford the exaggeration that has little place in everyday life. As I learned upon my visit to the salon, Stephen Jones' hats for people like you and me are not toned-down versions of his runway pieces. They retain the same complexity and sense of humour. I imagine wearing a Stephen Jones hat is like walking on your own small runway.

Emilio Pucci dress, 1968

Back in March I visited the Diana Vreeland After Diana Vreeland exhibition at Museo Fortuny in Venice, Italy. It was the day after the opening that was accompanied by an international symposium on Diana Vreeland, bringing to Venice notable scholars, curators and other fashion people I felt I should have recognized in the small, shaded streets surrounding the museum. When I saw a lady wearing a fabulous bright patchwork coat, I just knew she was not around by coincidence.

The exhibition, dedicated to Vreeland's life and work as fashion editor of Harper's Bazaar and editor-in-chief of Vogue, displays a selection of magazines and dresses by Yves Saint Laurent, Cristóbal Balenciaga, Emilio Pucci, Coco Chanel, Elsa Schiaparelli, Missoni and Ballets Russes costumes that Vreeland had collected. (Unfortunately they didn't let me take any more photos than the one above)

While I was tickled pink to share space with dresses by some of the best fashion designers of the 20th century at least for half an hour, the exhibition awoke a curiosity for Diana Vreeland's life beyond what you can read in encyclopedias and I longed for more biographical details. It mostly focuses on the philosophy and feeling of Vreeland: how she thought, how she worked, what she liked. Then again, fashion is never about revealing too much. Vreeland herself was the master of that.

The exhibition runs until June 25, 2012. Palazzo Fortuny, Venice, Italy.

With last week's news of Anna Dello Russo designing an accessories collection for H&M and revival of the brand Elsa Schiaparelli, I've been asking myself what is rotten in the fashion industry that the most exciting designers seem to be non-designers and dead designers.

Anna Dello Russo for H&M

I.
When the press release announcing the collaboration between Anna Dello Russo and H&M landed in my inbox, my initial thought was that these collaborations are getting old. While I had anticipated a number of them in the past with curiosity and enthusiasm, they no longer feel as exclusive and special because there is no space to breathe between one collaboration and the next. Once the hype in the media and online has subsided, you just know there's going to be a new collaboration tugging at your subconscious consumerist strings very soon. This cyclic course should really be linear because the way to progress is innovation, not repetition.

Though this is of little concern to H&M as their marketing strategy is collaborating with big fashion names – not even necessarily designers – to bring in tons of money, I would be infinitely more excited about high street brands employing young, emerging designers. It would reintroduce suspense and freshness, two elements almost all previous H&M collaborations have lacked (if you're familiar with the designer's signature style, you have a good grip of what the collaboration will be like) and contribute towards a less self-obsessed fashion industry.

Elsa Schiaparelli hats

II.
While H&M's decision to collaborate with Anna Dello Russo makes perfect sense in terms of appeasing the evergrowing online crowd of fashion bloggers, readers and commentators, the news about the revival of Schiaparelli took me by surprise. Diego Della Valle, CEO of Tod's, plans to open Maison Schiaparelli in Paris during menswear fashion week in June. His statement that "we won't be chasing the commercialism of the fashion world: this is a project that aims for the best in terms of taste and quality, and will provide all the calm necessary to achieve that" (source) indicates a possible radical shift in the brand's vision and aesthetic, much like revived Balmain. Elsa Schiaparelli was anything but toned down with her claw gloves, trompe l'oeil designs, walloping headpieces and lobster dresses. If she were alive today, her number one customer would be Anna Dello Russo!

The aim of the old-new brand is to revisit Elsa Schiaparelli's ideas in a contemporary style. Has fashion really become so dull that nobody has their own ideas? I don't think so. Besides, Schiaparelli's ideas were revolutionary in that moment in time. They would not have the same effect today, no matter how skillfully appropriated and turned inside out. It was easier to stand out in the 1930s than during reign of singers wearing raw meat to get attention.

III.
Refusing to employ new talent and ideas in the fashion industry is an enormous and deliberate waste of creative potential. As a creative person, you can achieve a lot by self-initiative, but you improve the most when you have to meet increasing demands that do not depend entirely on yourself.

The fashion industry is increasing its demands everywhere but in creativity.

Clockwise: ice-cream sundae shoes, meat shoes, red-bean rice shoes.

Before Lady Gaga's meat dress, there were Tokio Kumagai's meat shoes.

Shoe designer Tokio Kumagai first produced his Shoes to eat (Taberu kutsu) series in 1982, reviving Elsa Schiaparelli's trompe l'oeil technique from the 1930s. As the title would suggest, the shoes were not edible. Kumagai created them using Japanese plastic food-sample production methods.

I'd love to see edible miniature versions of these shoes being sold in vending machines alongside fancy Japanese snacks.

P.S. A propos Lady Gaga's meat dress – it's not so much an issue of originality as it's a question of whether everything has been done in fashion already. Forget luxury brand management Master's degrees, fashion innovation is what's going to matter in the long run.

Elsa Schiaparelli designs, 1934

I've always admired Elsa Schiaparelli's ability to transform the quotidian into the quirky. Looking at her designs in the time of Lady Gaga and the ever-present need to shock and be shocked, they might not seem as off the hook as they once had, but they definitely haven't lost their charm.

Lobster phone: Collaboration with Salvador Dalí, 1937

For those unfamiliar with Schiaparelli, she's best described as the surrealist Coco Chanel. The two were actually rivals in Paris, although the social circles they moved in (and even their work - Chanel was minimalist, Schiaparelli flamboyant) couldn't have been more different.

The first photo found me amidst a stream of thoughts (actually laments) on how it's damn near impossible to look like a stylish individual in cold and soaking weather. In winter I'm usually shooting for outfits similar to the ladies' above (i.e. as much non-robust coats and footwear as possible). Most of the time they don't work in practice because in this city dry winter is a very abstract concept.

Should you want to spice up the dreary winter, however, another Schiaparelli idea comes in handy: ornamented buttons. Underrated much?