Punk Beijing

What can I say...

This blog wouldn't exist without Punk. I was too young be one in 1976, and certainly too Catholic. Fast forward to 1999 and one of my newest and closest friends (professional troublemaker) Blue Doran sat me down in his Bangkok apartment over bottles of Sangsom and underneath his vintage movie poster collection (Midnight Cowboy and Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid) draping the walls, he explained Punk to me from his first hand experience of following the Sex Pistols around as a fifteen year old from Worcester, and my mind was blown. I got the concept, I got the sizzle and I got the history all in one night, from a living witness and nothing was ever the same again. By coincidence my daughter's Aunty was a punk inspired designer in Thailand with the widely loved Scotch-Soda clothing brand.

Perhaps it is fitting then that this designer, often styled ironically in pin curls and pearls, and so involved with the pop cultural desecration and modern rebrand of British heritage, should depart in the same year as the woman whose image she once helped lance with a safety pin.

On one of my returns to the UK I stayed with Rob, my former design lecturer at Uni, and he had a very expensive Vivienne Westwood collection for both himself and his partner. 

She tossed her prezzies out when they separated and Rob mentioned it was about 20 grands worth. That's just the stuff she was given. Back in the 90's she also refused a chance to be a model for one of the Vivienne Westwood collections. Super Croydon girl is Audrey (went to school with Kate Moss), totally grounded and couldn't give a shit about any attention seeking lifestyle. In a way that's about as punk as it gets.

While at Robs we took the opportunity to go and see Vivienne's retrospective at the Victoria & Albert museum and that's when I really got into her work. He also gave me Jane Mulvagh's biography of Vivienne, An Unfashionable Life, to read. It's a really good book and provides a bit more dispassionate granularity than most biographies.

Raised in Derbyshire from working class stock, Ms Westwood established LET IT ROCK with Malcolm 'Svengali' McLaren on the Kings Road. I dare say Tavistock were all over the show, without even letting them know. Nobody wants to talk about that so let's roll on. After leaving the rock (let it rock, black rock, tavistock... quarry men then the rolling stones and G Brethren and so on and so forth).

I can't let it go

Vivienne Westwood did not feel pretty as a child, but while roaming a wood near the family home in Derbyshire she dreamt of becoming a beautiful wood fairy.

“I daydreamed that I would be walking in this wood and I would have this little house under these tree roots. I would have this fantastic dress and just come upon one or two little boys that I knew and they would just really be impressed by this dress. I always had this idea that some day I could make myself better.”

In a way it's Tolkienesque right? 

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. 

Next thing, we're in Rivendell

Perfect

All around the alleged globe, the British don't quite understand that of course the people are loved, but the empire?

... nah... the international community want to punch the football into the net like Maradona, unless it's filling Kiev's MuthaWEFFer pockets or the EU or the WHO or do I really need to continue?

If you consider yourself British (i'm a space mongrel) I can assure you there's lot's of British historiography around the world (all over the world)

She may have come to fashion designing at the comparatively late age of 33. 

Vivienne as it were.

You will only see two British iconographies from the slums of Rangoon to the Showrooms of Beijing. 

Those are Bentley Motors & Punks

All strata of society around the world know those two and till recently the Queen and the Beatles.

Prove me wrong

Vivienne Westwood - Red Label

The difference between scene and style. Aunty Viv still has it in spades all these years later.

Jackpot Vivienne Westwood?

I stole the best photos when Aunty Viv  left us over Christmas from The Times and I hope they took it as a the compliment it very much was.

These new ones magically just turned up

Julian Assange Thank You Speech Behind Harrods

The Vienna Convention is the single most subscribed to convention on the planet. For William Hague to threaten tiny Ecuador and persecuted Julian while the controlled media are silent over whistleblowers is a disgusting, and evidence that this is a fight for change that will result in the change we demand.

The media is bent, the judiciary is bent, the police are bent and there's no need to provide words for government. Both sides are on the same team. When it matters, where it matters there's no difference. The rest is cosmetics for superficial people to feast on.

Thanks to Vivienne Westwood for standing up against the establishment and of course the indefatigable Tariq Ali who has put in decades of service to humanity.

Huge thanks to Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Columbia, El Salvador, Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, Peru and Venezuela for protesting against Julian's persecution. Shame on the US, Canada, Australia and all the greedily developed nations for having no moral foundation.

Beijing Fashion and Trends

I got caught in Xidan again last weekend. That flat peaked baseball hat thing that was hitting London when I left may not have arrived full-on in Beijing yet, but I do like the perched and slightly tilted action going on below with subverted logos .

These guys really made me think I'd lost my antenna for what's going on because their piercings and punk goth look had in my opinion overstepped what Beijing tolerates as acceptable. Its one thing to be rebellious but in my estimation their look (even though its ace) would surely lead to some kind of 'social alienation' in this part of China. I think Vivienne Westwood collector and fashion lecturer Robert De Niet in London would be particularly pleased with those bondage trousers which, like the rocking shoes she designed, are somewhat impractical but look insanely good. Clothes for heroes indeed.

I bumped into them later in that cheap clothes mall I've been raving about and had a chance to ask them a few more questions where they told me in quite good English that they were of Canadian/Korean descent and here to learn Chinese. This kind of pleased me because I couldn't believe how much attitude their style had, although I will always be slightly disappointed in a city that doesn't have room for a few Punk Goths. I understand that Worcester wasn't the sort of place to wear this stuff in 76/77 either!

Here are some examples of those insane T Shirts I've been going on about.

Does Linda know?

Thus adding another dimension to the uncanny valley.

I have no idea what Beverdially Sweetbones Brondnated Beveriseeds means but its the sort of thing I'm beginning to enjoy and expect from Xidan. One of the things I like about the cheap shops is the resourcefulness they put into making them hip, and here in the Jing it seems that using magazine photography covered in glass on the floor is one way the young can inexpensively add some attitude. A lot of the shops also take pride in having rare trend curiosities to attract people in. Although that is a post for another day that I'm keen capture.

Asian Poses

I've had a terrific day today as I managed to crowbar myself off fantasy island where I'm staying and make it to Hong Kong central for a full-on slap-up English Breakfast 'power meeting' at the Flying Pan (I went for the 'Fly Up' with extra side of English sausage just creeping into the picture on the bottom right) We had a terrific time because I'm a breakfast connoisseur and when tanked up on English Breakfast tea can wax lyrical with Shakespearean soliquoys or even riff on with an Iambic Pentameter (when pushed )about stuff like plate sizes, Croydon fry ups, Kate Moss and hygiene (it's all true), Audrey in Croydon who keeps it real, her ex partner Rob who is a FASHION HO (but a bit of a genius with it) responsible for educating me both on my degree and more importantly on Vivienne Westwood and the punk ethic among many other things.

I even launched into my recently formed "Hierarchy of Nuts" speech because that's the stuff that fills my head at random points. Do you want to hear it?

No I didn't think so but tough luck, as I made sure that Sherri (who is doing something very interesting with a boutique agency network start-up and her interactive head honcho endured my ramblings) I think I should be sharing it with you too.

It goes like this top of the nut food-chain is the Macadamia and below that is the Brazil, Walnut, Almond or Pistachio (interchangeable) followed by Hazlenut, and then there's a whole sub hierarchy of peanuts starting of with dry roasted and shell steamed (Asia only) and ending up with ready salted and then those awful lighly salted partly husked (is that a word?) cheap peanuts that cheapskate bars serve thinking they're doing us a favour when in fact they only serve to remind one of the poverty of taste being endured but more importantly I felt compelled to share that the Macadamia is the fillet steak of the nut world -  juicy, meaty, tender, and I think we concluded that the likes of the almond are not fully represented if the whole cracking procedure (fiendishly difficult in the almond's case) is not brought into the hierarchy metric. Good point I thought when it first raised.

Anyway, it's important to have an opinion on things as a a planner and the nut allegory only serves to demonstrate that. My planning mentor was alway one for making a game out of these things and would endlessly press gang us with impromptu list-games about books, movies or whatever he deemed worthy of inspection. This was before the ubiquity of mobile phone internet of course but it's a loss we should be aware of.

Lastly, because it was such a grand fry up I insisted on a photo of the glorious spread. I thought briefly, and not for the first time that black pudding is in my case an unavoidable  addictive reason for not giving up meat products (along with bacon, but not sausages) because despite considerable moral and ecological arguments for giving up meat I don't think I can - which fills me with horror . I have the ability to break down and weep or write poetry about black pudding and also chuckle as I did today when Sherri asked what it was made from. Pigs blood innit.

Along the way, I shared the Asian Poses websites for the pic above, and so I opted for the cutting edge vogue, of the puffed cheeks looks coupled with the rapidly fading Churchill V sign. You should try this shit because Asians (particularly girls) are well ahead of the game when pulling camera poses and it can rescue a bad pic or easily replace that awkward scowl that is meant to convey modesty but looks like glumness in many a random occidental snap. Here's the web site again for the afficianado.

The Future's Bright

I'm quite pleased with this shot because getting the scrolling message on it correct involved two MTR underground rides to Tsim Tsa Tsui in Kowloon, a bit of shouting because the machine to programme the watch wasn't there, some more shouting because the watch model didn't programme like they advertised, some TLC to the shop assistant who needed to know I was putting on the rage a bit so that they did something like upgrade the watch to the one that does program at no cost and then the Star Ferry across the harbour to central. It's such a beautiful thing to do and I can't tell you how magic it is to do a little bit of history as a commute/trip. I'm so lucky.

Anyway, she still looked nervous after my cheesy grin pulling, so I'll go back and lay some more love on her next time I change the message. It's an O.D.M watch and the aficionados will recognise that the orange strap doesn't come in black face but that's what needed to be sorted out as part of the scrolling message thing. It's not as stupidly expensive as the IWC which I'm waaay more open to given the fab service at the Schaffenhausen boutique but anyway it's still a pure fashion accessory because I don't need it really. My mobile phone as does yours, tells the time if we're honest.

This lovely young lady was a good sport because it's the orange watch that get's the puff cheeked, double cat claws acion. I hope I hear from you because your T Shirt Idea is something I've been kicking around for a while in my head. Wanna do a small fashion thing together?

Aunty Viv would have been proud of what I told the staff who tried to prevent me taking this photograph. I think they should read her biography here, definitely (no exceptions)  watch this and then we can talk about that belt you should give me the most awesome discount on OK? I only want the accessories because let's face it. To really get away with Vivienne Westwood it's about affording it. Clothing for heroes? (Check) Budget? (Not yet)

Truly a privilege to live in the same century. (Absolutely no chance of working with them though given that superstar is holding their hands. Anybody know any Triads? (OK that's a pretty funny Hong Kong advertising gag but nobody EVER comments on my puns so I gotta highlight them now)

Must dash because the owner of the luggage store I mentioned here is opening his shop tonight and I'm going to be very rude and try and get a sweet deal on the Camel Leather number that is going to push me into living in a bus shelter as the best looking vagabond on the planet. The Bothos website is here if you want to know what style of leather bag turns me on but the drop down always in beta thing fucking cracks me up because it's just spot on and I think they don't know how 2.0 it is although I will ask.

Vivienne Westwood @ The Foreign Office

I don't think the fashion business should be talking about climate revolution when the idea (not the business itself) is the worst ideological offender for changing something with no great pragmatic reason. Other than that it's a great show. Aunty Viv is still producing beautiful clothes.

Aunty Viv

I had the good fortune to stay for a few days in Milan this week judging global creative and more importantly getting a chance to meet people that I may one day need to call upon for help. I stayed at the nhow hotel which is as pretentious as it's name (I heard a few Milanese pronouncing it with the 'h' which just cracked me up). The hotel was tres chic but as I pointed out to the production people on the flight back to London, the pillows weren't up to standard, which is more important than any smoked glass shower action like the Park Hotel in New Delhi I talked about here.

In the post industrial reception I noticed the art they were displaying reminded me heavily of Russell's jump posts so I thought I'd share them with you here. They look more like they could be sinking than floating...and on smack too for that matter.

Or is she floating in water?


To me it almost looks like the point on a parabolic curve when motion is static, or the point during a trampoline jump when up turns to down.

We didn't get much of a chance to look around Milan but I did sneak out and stock up on some quality Salami & Cheese at the supermarket but not on any cake action.

Mmm they're waiting for me in the fridge at home.

The cake shop was closed at night but the view from the window looked fab. There is something very civilised about shops with cakes in the windows. Like a scene from The Unconsoled, in one of those hard to determine middle European cities that Kazuo Ishiguro depicts so well.

We were however spoiled with a little trip to a brilliant traditional Milanese trattoria that even now I can remember all the courses because the food was so simple and fab. It's called Bagutta and is a favourite haunt for the artistic community in Milan. Not the tossers in fashion or advertising but proper creatives. The ones who paint and write for love not money. They produce a book each year which as we left the restaurant I noticed one year was titled 'Basso Profondo" which is something that Tom Doctoroff talks about in his rather excellent book "Billions - Marketing to the new Chinese Consumer". More on that later.

And the next day we were even treated to my first game of football since I watched Frankfurt Eintracht play in 1992. As you might know from this post, I'm a footy expert every four years but nothing could prepare me for the feel of the San Siro stadium with Inter Milan playing CSKA Moscow. I thought I'd take a quick video at ground level only to hear someone berating me to get out of the way in Italian.

The Moscow fans who chanted louder than the home team were on the right of this shot and the hard core Milan fans were in the far corner on the left. They let off a couple of flares after they went down 2 goals in the first 15 minutes as it was starting to look like Moscow were going to win but in the end the score was a very exciting 4-2 to Milan. The lady on my left poking her tongue out at the Camera is Roberta who organised all the events and was very friendly and charming while showing us the best Milan has to offer. (Outside of a Prada shop of course)

So Milan? Lovely people, lots of cheek kisses and genuine warmth with great conversation (Thanks Pietro) and a top quality slice of one of the great civilisations to emerge and conquer the British Isles although quite why anyone would want to swap temperate Italy with chilly Blighty is quite beyond me, and just before I end you might want to check out a great blog from one of my former University lecturers who has started blogging bits and pieces worth checking out. Don't concern yourselves with his spelling, as Robert De Niet who I talked about over here, is heavily dyslexic. But his style and taste are invariably impeccable. As indeed were the Vivienne Westwood sofas gracing the nhow hotel reception in honour of Aunty Viv's retrospective that is on in Milan right now.