The End of Era and Superbalist

The only thing more absent than my presence on this here blarb, is my desire to see the year's end. This Sunday not only concludes the end of a week but the end of an era. High school is officially over (only to an extent, of course, there are still final examinations to be written) and I wanted to celebrate my delving into one of my favourite aesthetics; une IG bad-bad.

Oh, you know, those super beautiful girls you only ever see on Instagram with 20 inch weaves and contour for the gawds, the world's supply of pencil skirts and lace up high heel sandals. They're always going to fancy lunches and drinking artisan coffees and taking super lowkey selfies with beyps.

And, just in time, I received a R500 voucher from the really lovely people at Superbalist (which I still pronounce super-balist even though I've learnt it's superb a-list) and copped this amazing Vera Moda jacket and extra long pencil skirt. Which, given my recent obsession with the IG bad-bads, has been the most coveted item in my wishlist.

I was pleasantly surprised to see how far I could stretch R500 on a website that imports high street fashion from around the world and in between the beautiful jacket and skirt, I also got a really lovely piece of art too. And shopping with Superbalist was a dream. The website is clean in design and easy to navigate, they keep you updated on your shipping progress and send you an SMS the day-of-delivery to tell you when your parcel is going to arrive.

Shop Superbalist (which also ships internationally, btw) here. I also recommend that you hurry because their stock sells out rather quickly.

A Crash Course in Cape Town Cool

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With Spring and both SA and Mercedes-Benz Fashion Weeks around the corner (along with the subsequent "omg how am i gonna prove to jozi cool kids that, you know, if i try hard enuf i could be one of them" sartorial panic), I've been pondering a very cliched renewal and refresh. Mostly in the case of my level of cool barely cutting it in the mainland and what that could mean when I'm trying to coerce -- I mean convince -- kids into being my friends should I make it to the shores for the afterlife (read: university).

Boy, am I going to have to develop a great personality or something equally as insipid because I do not have the juice like that. I don't know if it's that early 2000s Old Money tendency towards pretending you bought your Ralph Lauren and Chanel that moth-eaten and hand-me-down-y, or maybe the mother city's infamous winds or just that everyone on the Atlantic seaboard is so ready for a tsunami or some wild, wild waves that they're wearing all their favourite items at once.

While Joburg Barbies are moving closer and closer to that clean-cut, hard line geometric minimalism that sees the second coming of the Adidas stripe, careful proportion play and athleisure neoprene and net fabrics, I'm still stuck in that circa 2008 time warp with a bigger is better soundtrack. I've expressed this sentiment earlier in my give me a new millenium post but no one has locally been feeding me the vibes and aesthetics I really crave.

Well, at least until I finally caught up on July's Mercedes Benz Fashion Week Cape Town bookmarks.

Nina Milner at MBFWCT (source)

Marianne Fassler (source)

MBFWCT was one of the first fashion week instances when ready-to-wear designers were sustaining my life force much better than the actual street style. I guess my resistance to change hasn't reached all the high street trend setters (note: I am also partly jelly because I can't bring myself to not mix patterns or grasp minimalism beyond the position of voyeur). But Marianne Fassler, Habits and Nicole West were giving me that #YOLO wear all your favourite things at once / Old Money "moth eaten" silk / proportions and fabrics lighter than the weather / circular sunglass framed artisanal coffee shop alternative rap/rock cyber kasi / pseudo-safari(ugh that should so be a thing) look. This has also always been my favourite aspect to Cape Town cool kids like Daisie Jo and Tony (who I will never stop referencing).

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Tony Gum doing all of it (source)

Daisie Jo (who's also my favourite Elle Rising Star finalist)

Habits (source)

Habits

Habits

Habits

Habits

Nicola West (source)

If anyone needs me I'll be investing in large quantities of chiffon, organza and rainbow spectrum prints and patterns. Should you spot me in your neighbourhood craft beer garden or roaming the meeting points of Johannesburg's Dutch and English architecture, don't be swayed by my carefully constructed look of disdain or that I've had Cherry Bomb on loop - I'm still very obviously a loser kid.

 

Winter Is Coming

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The hottest club this winter has to be fleshy shades of pinks, reds and beiges to counteract the overbearing, over-saturated shades of yellow and orange coming through this season. South African winters are very dizzying as the sky gets bluer and the sun supernovas into yellows so bright they grow macabre but, at the same time, the temperature barely rises above 20. Which I'm sure to all ye Northern Hemisphere kids is a breezy summer day, but my drying valley of bones cannot deal. If it could at least look like winter-- you know, overcast skies, wind, trees without leaves-- I might be able to get into the whole winter vibe, fantasise about layering textures, patterns and what not. Instead I have to deal with what looks like summer on steroids but feels like the depths of my soul.

You'd think this constant summer that's not summer would mean that Scandinavian brand of sadness would go away (you know, the unhappiness behind all our favourite Dutch/German paintings and shades of blue) but the not summer part intensifies it ten fold to a Saharan Sadness that won't go away. It's a lot if misplacement and not knowing how many jerseys to wear. The skies remain a cloudless, terrific shade of blue throughout all this.

Babble aside, you're thinking of a white Christmas, I'm imagining a brown winter filled with grandma motifs (rose patterns, porcelain, plastic covers), 24 hour mood lighting and lots of frumpy, asymmetrical lines. Nothing matters. Hail Satan.

 top: still from The Virgin Suicides c/o of Google Image search // left and right: stills from Twin Peaks c/o Google Image Search // stills from Xxplosive music video by Dope Saint Jude (screencaps)

 left: Teenage Gaze by Petra Collins // right: my friend, Lukhanyo at Liquidchef's two months ago

 top: The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert still (from tumblr) // bottom: Teenage Gaze by Petra Collins

 A.W.A.K.E. Fall 2015 Ready-to-Wear collection (from style.com)

 Teenage Gaze by Petra Collins

 The supreme babe, Zipho (Tony Gum Online)

 A Rookie Mag photo set entitled The Way Home

 Babyghost Fall 2015 Ready-to-Wear // pieces from the Central Saint Martins show including that of Samuel Guidong Yang and Matty Bovan (all photos from style.com)

 Bree in Desperate Housewives, c/o of Google Images

 Kirsten Dunst's pelvis, somewhere on Tumblr

Physical Education by Sipho Mpongo and Zipho/Tony, from Tony Gum

 The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

 (Central Saint Martins show)

 From Zipho's tumblr

 Rookie Mag photoset entitled Twilight Shine

Still from Heathers.

I love all you dead gay sons. Tell me about your summers and all the vibrant shades you're envisioning this June/July.