It’s groundhog day here at the Bow Chronicles. Here I deliver you yet another Substack on cruising altitudes and collections. Am I predictable? Yes. But it seems as though fashion and travel mark the rhythm of my life right now so here’s the update.
Cruising altitudes:
Since my Mormon encounter in Utah I’ve witnessed the terrifying and devastating fentanyl crisis in Calgary where countless homeless people stood hunched over helplessly in desperation. They shared the sidewalks with swaggering oil brokers. It was a most alarming and upsetting sight to behold. Naively before arriving I thought Canada would be a less extreme version of the USA but how wrong I was.
In London oil brokers wear Patagonia gilets over their shirts. In Calgary oil brokers wear suits with white wide brimmed cowboy hats. Imagine the city of London crawling with cowboy hats. Which style choice would you prefer?
Hats are obviously a thing in Calgary. On an outing to a nearby café (think a Patisserie Valerie type of place) I was struck by four elderly women sharing a table next to me who were dressed to the nines all wearing—readers take a breath—jet black fascinators. Queue shivers. It’s a horrible word and they’re horrible things but I was fascinated by the fascinator wearing women in such a seemingly casual café. They pecked and prodded at the crumbs of their afternoon tea like a murder of crows (such a deliciously wicked collective noun!) I promptly shared this observation with the make up artist I was working with that week and she pointed out that they had probably been to a funeral. Now I feel bad and I’m definitely going to hell. But someone tell me, what’s the fascinator etiquette? Wouldn’t you take off that clip on calamity at afternoon tea? Has anyone ever even been to a funeral wearing a fascinator? Pray do tell!
Just when I thought the madness was over, one of the drivers we were working with divulged to me about his near miss with an arranged marriage and how he’s been outcast by his family. I’ve certainly never heard a London cabbie say this to me.
Calgary airport cheered my up however where plonked in the centre of the terminal sat a plane shaped grand piano. Just when you think it couldn’t get more camp, a very confident young man belted out Les Misérables “On my own” whilst bashing away on the keys. He was very much giving the energy I sometimes feel when travelling.
The performances didn’t stop there. Scurrying through the terminal perched atop a mini suitcase was a Scottish terrier also wearing a cowboy hat whose sole job was to be wheeled about by a very friendly lady, supporting and cheering up fellow travellers. Heathrow airport take note.
Other recent intriguing interactions when travelling include:
My sweet Mum picked me up from the airport after a job and commented on the pilot hat poking out of my handbag and remark “Cute hat.” I was appalled about what this says about my style. Yes contrary to my generations opinion I like hats, but this 100% polyester hat was obviously for my 3 year old aviation nerd nephew, not me.
A very sweaty and grunting, probably heartbroken middle aged man brazenly playing Taylor Swift’s Blank Space on repeat from the tinny speakers of his iPhone in a hotel gym in Pittsburgh. I hope he finds his abs and himself/a new lover soon.
A German stylist got lost in translation on a job with me in Düsseldorf when she begged the question, “What do we do with your tits?” Myself and the make up artist were in stitches. She was right though, the nipple stickers were too big and my “tits” too pert. We free the nipple I hear you answer, but from now on when tackling this ongoing styling problem I shall forever ask, “What do we do with your tits?”
On an early morning commute to Paddington to catch the Heathrow Express I saw a suited businessman sat outside Starbucks with a briefcase at his heels, puffing away at a fat cigar between sips of coffee. I had to shake my head a bit, check whether I was in the right country, the right century, but no it was reality. I loved his baller energy. I have so many questions but the most important is please can Vogue do a ‘What’s in my briefcase?’ to lawyers, doctors, business folks etc.? This would be far more intriguing than any celebs ‘What’s in my bag?’.
In mid July I shopped till I dropped in St Tropez market, I thought it would be wildly expensive like everything else there but I left with a stash of gifts. I’m particularly I’m excited to style my new pareo à la Leandra Medine. Sarong styling goals will always peak (pardon the pun) with Sir David Beckham’s layering during the 1998 World Cup. Eerling Harland could never.
1998 Sadly my “tits” were too small for this very sassy tank. Busty pals go forth and buy. My gal pal took one look at this tank and brilliantly summarised maybe my whole fashion alter ego, “Some outfits just look better with a cig”. Sigh. I rest my case.
The chic French women were serving colour at the market and I couldn’t help but sneakily capture them. It turns out I’m an undercover style detective, especially when shopping. I recently followed an impeccably lady dressed in leather and lime in Cos on Regent street. Anything she touched I wanted to try on.
I always catch a patriotic bug when I land at Heathrow. I balk at the Burberry adverts towering above the luggage carousels before exiting. Their casting and wit is always so brilliant. I’m particularly enjoying their Good Sport campaign. Senuous x Burberry is genius.
Less patriotic and more psychotic, I keep wafting past these Chanel apple heeled shoes in Terminal 5 like some sort of stalker who keeps ‘happening to bump into’ their ex. To quote Charli, “Card Declined.”
When perusing the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition (showing until August the 23rd) all I did was take pictures of shoes. I don’t know what this means but a couple of the titles felt like a slap in the face.
Consider myself corrupted.
Cruising couture:
I’m at peace with the fact that cruising (the aimless ambling for pleasure definition) is the only way I shall ever interact with couture, the crème de la crème of fashion. It’s equal parts breathtakingly beautiful and bonkers, just as it should be. This isn’t about wearability because people who buy couture don’t wear clothes in places like you or I. Don’t concern yourself about how the woman wearing a dress that costs the same amount as your flat is going to sit or stand. Couture is about visibility, for the lucky, lucky person wearing it, but mostly for the house couture showcases what their masterful petite mains are capable of. It’s the closest fashion gets to art. It’s also the closest we’ll ever get to glimpsing into that mad money world. I always love to see who’s sat front row and so we must kick off with (pun intended) this lady and her boot sat frow at Standing Ground.
Apologies to the designer and founder Michael Stewart but I can’t stop looking at her great, stonking boot. Can anyone share any details on this lady and her obstruction?
Again, to quote the oracle Charli, this seasons couture was all about 360 dressing. At those price tags you want bang for your buck and the gowns were giving front, back and side.
At Chanel of course the lbds were perfect.
(Sidenote: does anyone see Jamie Dornan in Matthieu Blazy? Double hunk. Triple hunk-I am obsessed with the way Marc Jacobs rocks Chanel. His ootd’s are aspirational.)
Other lookalikes I’d like to call out is this to die for Givenchy coat that’s also giving Pat Butcher in the very best way. I like to think Sarah Burton has a good sense of humour and would enjoy this. I’m positive Bernard Arnault would not. Queue the thudding EastEnders theme tune.
Givenchy’s 360 dresses are sugar and spice and all things nice.
My favourite of the couture collections was Pier Paolo Piccioli’s debut at Balenciaga (read all about it on his Substack here). He nodded to Hubert de Givenchy’s signature sculptural forms whilst also adding his own sense of fun and freedom to it. This is contemporary couture and ultimate 360 dressing.
I adore how Piccioli brought out his whole atelier to close the show. It really does take a village. See fashion really isn’t as bitchy as people like to think.
Old habits die hard:
Bring back Molly Goddard! She reshared this Tim Walker image from 2017 on her Instagram. It’s pure Younger Self Dressing and we need more of it.
Brilliant bows, obvs.
Marie Antoinette hair goals at Jean Paul Gaultier. Can someone please inform me on how I can replicate this?
I find all the desperate fashion references to the Odyssey lazy and naff. This is not fashion journalism, this is clickbait slop. No adult woman aspires to dress like a Greek goddess and if she does give her a wide berth. Disclaimer: for my leavers ball (aka prom) I made my blessed Mum drive me to the outskirts of Birmingham to source my goodbye school gown. This was shopping pre-Instagram/Depop/Vinted—Gen Z count yourself lucky. Oddly the dress I chose was very Odyssey; off white chiffon draping with gold beading at the waist. I even paired this virginial monstrosity with gold bangles wedged up one of my unformed biceps. Yuck. This marked the first and last time I give Odyssey dressing a go.
Whilst I have no interest in sitting on my arse for nearly 3 hours in the cinema to watch Odyssey, I did however thoroughly enjoy watching the The Invite. It’s quick witted, sharp and a delightful 1 hour 47 minutes. May I recommend my new favourite cinema snack — the duo Yorkie bar with raisin and biscuit. I didn’t share.
Other than chunky chocolate bars I’m also consuming all of the brilliant An Excellent Fit podcast episodes (fashion dmcs are my favourite kind) and Anna Jones’ dead easy strawberry and labneh semifreddo from One Pot, Pan, Planet. Summer in a pudding.
There is SO MUCH I have to say about Music, Fashion, Film, so much so it deserves an entire post. Unsurprisingly I absolutely love it and now I’m desperately trying to get tickets for her Friday night performance at Reading festival. Anyone got any leads?
Signing off with this shameless plugging of my florist endeavours. Here’s evidence of a recent flower evolution:
Love you byeeee.
Charlie xxx
How am I only just getting round to reading this. LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE. Please please one day do a book of all your nuts experiences modelling. P.S. What do we do with your tits x
More people should be rocking cowboy hats 🤠🕵🏻♂️