Coco avant Chanel - A feast for the eyes but not necessarily the senses...

Coco avant Chanel's heavily romantic plot, draws you in and spits you out the other side wondering what you had learned about Chanel's business scruples. I had always been led to believe that she was a much more ferocious business woman than the film portrayed. Her biggest rival Madeleine Vionnet was also in a race to be rid of the corset and the constraints that came with in. A very sentimental and enjoyable film with artistic license in full flurry, suited for those unfamiliar with fashion history. My satisfaction came in the form of gowns, hats, riding attire in rich silks, hardy tweeds and decadent bow ties, all the clothing is rather sublime, a feast for the eyes. Audrey Tatou delivers her best as a rather worn out lifelorn Coco and the film being peformed in French certainly raises it up a few notches.

Only the Director's seat for me?

Last night I was at odds with nothing to do, being a lonely girl in a new city I felt the dark anonymity of a cinema might distract me from myself for a few hours. 9.20pm was late to decide on such a venture, however from last weeks failed efforts at watching Coco avant Chanel - I knew of one venue that would be playing it, albeit with a hefty price tag, £12.25 to be precise. Such indulgences are usually not fulfilled, however, now and then a girl just has to throw caution (and their job seekers allowance) to the wind. So what did I actually get for my £12.25 - I re-confirm the price as I’ve never paid that much to watch a film, actually tell a lie, I have it was for the open air cinema at Somerset House set in the grounds of a majestic courtyard witness to one-off screenings that take months of licensing and preparation. Needless to say this was a constant charge designed to pull in revenue over a prolonged period of time. Anyway I digress - for my £12.25 (third and final mention) I received an extra large and somewhat squeaky slightly recline-able (what I believe to be leather - no vegans allowed) armchair, with a side table and the honor of purchasing a reasonably priced drink (from a dedicated bar) to furnish it with. Luxury holds no bounds. So luxurious in fact that surrounded by 10 others in a screen with a capacity on 200, we were greeted by a permanent choir of fart noises as the leather creaked and squirmed throughout the film. Needless to say I enjoyed the empty cinema and the little tray for my drink, however my thoughts upon entering the film remained unchanged. Had I been granted the option to watch the 'French speaking' film in anywhere other than the director's lounge I would have gladly taken it and saved my meagre recession based budget. Upon reflection the Cinema de Lux Director’s Lounge is a great place to go for a date or a regular outing if money is no object plus their is the additional straight from the car park into the cinema convenience that a larger ‘plex’ has to offer, next stop (at the other end of the cinema spectrum) is the cube.

Banksy's Bristol

The ingratiation of my new home - Bristol - was further progressed on Monday when I found the energy to venture up to Clifton triangle via Park Street (sans bicycle - last time I had to jump of my bike two thirds of the way up and walk the remainder whilst gasping for air; much to the amusement of the seasoned hill walker). At the top was the rather majestic building which houses vast arrays of taxidermy, historical artefacts and for the last month or two Banksy's exhibition and conjoined assault on the museum. Here are some rather poor quality pictures, which still present a glimpse of what I enjoyed. We were lucky enough not to queue as we entered around 40 minutes before the gallery shut, however those arriving in morning should expect to queue for anything from 2-3 hours... (with queuing beginning at 8am).

The Banksy exhibition runs until the 31st August at the Bristol Museum.

However, I'm not, so...

I plan to attend this instead... Eat your heart out Somerset House, it's free and on my doorstep.

If I was in London...

I would definitely be moseying along to this to have a perv at this little (pussy)kat...

A period of adjustment

Slowly merging from the safety shackles of a new house I ventured out into the not so big, but still fairly daunting city of Bristol. My first stop the job centre, it carried all the usual hallmarks of incompetency on my first visit they managed to give my dole card to another (of the male variety), second visit I was informed I needed to start looking for admin roles, a result of the 'shrinking' job market was their official line. Visit number three provided me with a comprehensive list of websites I should be looking at, only one bore any relevance, still the lady had taken on a mothering role, which may come back to haunt me at a later date.

From London to Bristol.

My room has been transformed over a three day period to resemble a sea of boxes and cheap laundry bags, packed with my life's treasures and items I should have ditched a long time ago, in short, it looks a little sad. This weekend I plan to do all the regular 'unoriginal' London activities that have filled my life since arriving here six years ago... go to the park (London Fields), Broadway Market, local pubs and entertain friends at home. A fitting closure to a wonderful adventure that has been cut short in the pursuit of love. Is this the last time I name London as my postal address? Que sera. All the sirens and sick fail to err the diamond in the rough, the freedom and buzz I encounter when strolling down the street or cruising on my bicycle, cannot be diminished. Yet there are new pleasures that await, a garden, more open space, an open fire, less trampling, more time focused inward. Bristol holds new possibilities, new music, new friends and new memories, yet without London this would be inconcievable, for it has shaped me, guided me and given me love...

Where the Wild Things Are...

I'm sure most are aware of the upcoming release of Where the Wild Things Are, a movie adaptation of the beloved childhood book. Spike Jonze is at the helm as director and the soundtrack features Arcade Fire (and I'm sure many others). On paper it really has the potential, as with all great books, their is always a fear of adaptation, I'll be happy if it lives up to 80% of my anticipation for the film. Here's a little preview to whet your appetite...

A Sunday Lost...

This Sunday I stumbled upon a medium sized gem of a pub, after taking the scenic route post breakfast at Dalston Lane Cafe (seems to have escaped the attention of the masses - i.e. good food, no queuing for a table). Pembury Tavern is has been open since 2006, so not exactly quick off the mark by any counts, what I liked especially was the 8% cider (Millwhites Dabinett's) after four pints I was loving life... so much so I managed to make it home and pass out, waking six hours later to the dark of the night and the slightly depressing Glastonbury highlights courtesy of the BBC. Internally the pub is quite spacious, high ceilings, with an assortment of seating and decorated with a beer mat boarder which proudly ran around the whole pub. The food menu covered the usual far, however with extra consideration given to the vegetarians (and vegans) with dishes including the Haloumi Jalfrezi (interesting, may work) and other such delights. At £2.80 a pint I shall be returning...

Back from the East

It is with a heavy heart and weary head I boarded the plane at Krakow for my journey back to London, within three hours I had touched down on UK soil. Greeted me was the rush hour sea of heads ploughing straight for the platform I had just left at Victoria Station. After running out of GBP (still have pockets full of various European currency Lats, Litas, Zolts...) I had to 'jump' the tube/overground back to Dalston. Felt a naughty freedom as I sneeked through the barrier at Dalston Junction, out onto the hot streets and to my doorstep. My return was softened by the trip to Tayyabs, although dissappointingly the service had subsided somewhat as the phrase 'victim of their own success' was banded round the table. We ate our Karachi curries (fish for me) in haste and left as the waiter was cleaning up and resetting before we'd even finished paying. It wasn't so great to be home, the holiday blues were kicking in fast.

Don't Wait Animate...

The band from London who wouldn't look out of place in a Benetton advert Don't Wait Animate meet up with us at The Haggerston to discuss why exactly they have decided to merge two genres of music together. They talk candidly to Dazed about their love for computer game soundtracks, their unhealthy obsession with Streets of Rage 2 and why to show appreciation for their music you should dance or punch someone in the face... don't worry they aren't violent, just enthusiastic, well meaning folk, whatever you do though, don't save over their computer game positions...

Dazed Digital: You describe your sound as 'Strumstep', what exactly does that mean and where did the phrase come from?
Don’t Wait Animate: One of our fans came up to us quite inebriated one night after our set and screamed at us "strumstep" stupefied, we accepted the term. It is a response to the sound and atmosphere we create using a live band we merge dubstep with indie, borrowing the beats, the breaks and wobble bass from dubstep. However much we are influenced by dubstep we still retain indie sensibilities, an indie heart if you like, most of the recorded tracks retain that kind of vibe.

DD: What problems do you face in terms of not quite belonging to either musical genres, is their love from both sides?
Don’t Wait Animate: The main problem is getting booked! Promoters don't know where to put us because our live set is so different to our recorded songs. We have been placed alongside many different musicians, with a varying degree of success, regardless of response we are able to feed off the crowd - if they hate us we want to play to them more! Our live performances are appreciated by both our indie contingency, and our dubstep connoisseurs, which are particularly into the tracks we haven't laid down - they tend to work better live.

DD: Do you feel there has been an influx in groups who take reference from a hybrid of sounds to create their own musical genre?
Don’t Wait Animate: It's happening more and more, peoples tastes are so diverse now. The question; 'what sort of music are you into'? Is a taboo nowadays and is punishable by public thrashing. It's a postmodernist world, form and genre are dying a slow death.

You can read the rest of the article here.

Liam's Pretty Green

Spring, 1994 as I sat in an empty park playing truant from school, listening to Oasis on repeat on my walkman, little did I know I would one day get the opportunity to own my very own piece of Liam Gallagher clothing. The new range, Pretty Green, designed by Liam features, tees, jumpers and parkas, is inspired by the film Quadrophenia and the 'mod' movement in particular.

The range went on sale to registered members this morning and due to the overload of people trying to access the site it crashed, reportedly in excess of 100,000 customers. Dazed have an exclusive first access to the video for the range, which also debuts Liam's solo track Mystery Man. You can also access a different edit on YouTube here.

Below are some of our favourite Liam quotes from both videos. To coin Mr Gallagher himself... enjoy it you fuckers! Follow this link for rest of the Dazed Digital article.

Acrylics RISE for Dazed Digital

If you cut certain sections of the Acrylics music and looped them together, you would be forgiven for thinking you were listening to a relaxation type given to you by some well-meaning relative. The band certainly does nothing to discourage their slightly skewed interpretation of ‘cool’. Contemplative slow-burning candy garage and seductive vocals provide a reflective airy 80s filmic feel. Further complimented by graphics delivered with an irony that only New Yorkers seem to perfect. You can read the rest of the interview here.

A new vocation... ?

Before Tracy Emin came along with her unmade bed, their was Cynthia Plaster Caster who found fame in the 60s by casting the dicks of famous rock stars. She would get her friend 'Diane' to suck them off before taking the mould using dental plaster so that their glories were available for eternal appreciation. She casted Jimi Hendrix, Bob Henrit of the Kinks, Ricky Fataar of The Beach Boys and David Yow of the Jesus Lizzard to name but a few. In 2000 she moved over to breasts and has cast Karen O and Peaches... Perhaps my new job should involve casting breasts, I think it would be great fun, rock stars dicks aren't too appealing though... think of all the germs they harbour.

Perfect Timing.

As I was strolled down Kingsland Road Saturday evening post Turkish supper I breezed past the Irish bar opposite The Kingsland Shopping Centre and gaze in, the wall was decorated with balloons and banners in celebration of a birthday, in a glance my eyes capture the image of a fireman bending over in full regalia, my brain catches up it's stripper, oh wait he's taking his clothes off with some old lady sitting down in front of him, a you boy with an earring, badly bleached hair and sports top looks out and catches me falling about in laughter, he looks slightly embarrassed unsure where to look the lady, the stripper or me... I smiled at the comedy timing an felt like I was witness to an snapshot episode of 'shameless'.

Tim in Stereo

Tim Noakes' voice relays in stereo around the office as he plays disc jockey on Diesel Radio this afternoon. The station is located down the road from my house on Shacklewell Lane I kinda wish I had made a plan to carry his CD case or something then I could of slipped out the door. Friday afternoon is tiresome we are all about to die from heat exhaustion... roll on... Saturday morning, when I finally start my weekend.

Here is a picture of Joanna Lacey, Tim and Terrence Teh enjoying themselves, bastards.

Picture stolen from Dazed Digital.

Sticky hands, sticky feet

If anyone believes that working in a pub is glamorous well, they'd be right, for about 30mins when you first enter and your face is pretty fresh and you're not covered in Sambuca, true you're out and you're kinda having fun (whilst being stuck behind a bar as moron's decide to grab your attention by signing at you like some kind of retard). Don't ever wear a decent pair of shoes to work as they will be destroyed after a few shifts from standing in the swampy floor and having beer and all manner of things tipped on you. The only solution is to get drunk, but then you feel quite guilty about the excesses you take things to, it's 7am and you're still at work you really want to do something with your day but by the time you wake up it's too late. I'm just trying to enlighten those who thinking working behind a bar is plain sailing... rant over.

Personality Types, Rollercoaster riders...

Do you ever talk to people and wonder - what happened to make you act that way? Tonight was a prime example of nepotism, I was intrigued as to how these people operate, do they show certain sides of the character to certain people that matter and behave like selfish twats to the rest of us? What do they bring to the table that allows them preferential treatment for just turning up, did they put their time in when we weren't looking, or simply breeze to the front of the queue because their mommy told them it was OK behavior. I sound like i'm ranting however the social structure and game playing within the party/work scene in London is a myriad of complexities, which boil down to how much you want something...

It's their for the taking, if you are prepared to change everything so that you barely recognise yourself.

Take a ticket climb aboard the rollercoaster...

Daily sightings

With the countdown of Rankin's departure from Dazed to a lovely new studio, I feel it only necessary to mark each sighting of musical folk on route to camera. Today it was the turn of V V Brown see previous blog posts and Lewis accompanied by one of the Kitty and Daisy's! Whichever one it was, looked a little nervous as she scuffled past my desk... I guess a room full of Dazed staff may do that to you...

From Weston-super-Mare with Love

Weston-super-Mare really doesn't have a lot going for it, yet in the broken down ramshackle town, we managed to stumble upon 50s dinner complete with vinyl coverings and shaded glass mirrors, now if we could only transport the place back to Dalston we'd be sitting on a goldmine!