Kuwait a minute, is that a Missoni hotel?

Maybe you haven’t noticed that the impulse to conquer the world didn’t die with Queen Cleopatra’s last snake bite, sending her to the realm of the dead – her hopes of Caesarion’s ascendence over both Western and Easter empires, last night’s dream. Families like the Rothschilds and probably to a lesser, more commercial degree, The Missonis, still propagate their wealth and power by dipping their hands into anything and everything. I mean, just look at Trump. The toupee on his head, which is most likely held in place by tiny gold threads to give it that rootstock appearance, would probably sell for a couple hundred thou just because it hovers oh-so-close enough to whatever that thing we call Trump is.

Why the world needs a Missoni hotel is hard to explain. But there it is, standing tall in Kuwait – and not so tall in Edinburgh, and soon in Brazil, Mauritius and Oman. The height of these latter edifices is still unknown. How tall will they be? Nobody knows!

I’ve always heard whispers about these s0-called Missoni hotels but never really thought that anybody actually stayed in them. For $365.00/night you can stay at the Hotel Missoni Kuwait this weekend. I got the price on hotwire.com, yo. But would you stay there? Or shudder at the risk of looking tacky? Like the woman decked out head-to-toe in the LV monogram – yes, including her fingernail art. I mean these concept hotels are great to blog about and visit on tours and stuff but after the novelty wears off wouldn’t you rather be at The Ritz?

(Quebec City’s Ice Hotel is an example par excellence. I took a tour of the hotel. It’s cool to visit for about 30 minutes. Then it gets really, really  cold. And completely uncomfortable. Plus you have to go OUTSIDE to a not-close-enough heated chalet, which has the interior decor of grade 8 overnight camp,  should you need to pee in the middle of the night. With my loosey-goosey bladder I might as well sleep in the goddamn cafeteria – also reminiscent of high school. There’s a vending machine. Lays chips and stuff).

Don’t get me wrong, I love Missoni. I probably wouldn’t stay in their hotels, though. If you’re an expert at knit sweaters and caftans then what the heck are you doing trying to design a bathtub!? (169 of them, to be exact). That’s just me. I’m a firm believer in going to the expert for every single thing you need. I’m not a fan of the Walmart mentality. The one-stop shop. Or a brand name that stamps its trademark onto all kinds of products. And I don’t think luxury brands fare too well adopting this said approach. They lose that rare cachet of specialization. Kinda like a cheesemonger selling iphone cases and cigarettes, I think.

 Eurotrash in Montreal (2007) and in Milan (2005) clad in Missoni. 

 Some people grow up with a silver spoon, or several, as I learned last night watching The Jazz Baroness – the story of Pannonica Rothschild’s departure from her silver spoons into the then-subversive American jazz scene of the 1950s. Sure, if I was Justine Rothschild I’d have many silver spoons. But would I have Missoni?

Something about money that just can’t buy you good taste. In fact, the Rothschilds who made appearances in the throwaway documentary were far from fashionable – far from presentable, if you ask me. First of all, none of them had ever heard of botox. Or dentists. A clan of billionaires with bad teeth and probably, bad breath. Gosh. Can you believe the Royal Family asked the Rothschilds for A LOAN? You would never know by looking at them, that’s for certain.

What’s all this got to do with the Missoni stripes that haven’t left my margins yet? Nothing really. Except that if I were a billionaire with the choice of duck milk, goose milk or half-sweetened lizard jizz for breakfast I’d certainly take the time to at least PAY someone to make me look presentable – and if we’re talking about me, personally, I’d want to look like an aristocratic version of Anna dello Russo minus her face.

My Missoni hat and scarf! OK, so they don’t match per se, but isn’t that the point of Missoni? 

So I’ve become quite content (ok, satiated for the time being) with my paltry collection of Missoni fare. I’ve got a knit scarf and I used to own a Missoni sport knit cardigan, which I bought in Florence when there used to be a Missoni Sport. (I sold the cardigan. Cacat!).
This Christmas I added a Missoni cashmere hat to my collection thanks to Mr. Eurotrash, who has recently added the ability to stop women in the street to compliment them on their Missoni pieces to his many talents. Eurotrash like me.

I love love love her tattoos mixed with colourful luxe. The YSL clutch just adds that extra “fuck you”.

A 1960′s inspired Missoni look. Not a huge fan of the shoes, though. This would’ve looked great with a pair of Chucks.

Definitely a wild approach to Missoni. This SS2011 collection is already “out there” so she styled the skirt accordingly. Not my kind of style but I think she pulled it off. Not a fan of her shoes, again. I would’ve paired this outfit with black leather ankle boots by Acne.

Is this Keira Knightley? This dress is absolutely gorgeous. She could have glammed it up by wearing gladiator sandals with straps up her legs and take off that watch! Girl, it’s the beach. When the sun goes down, you know it’s time to leave for aperitivo.

ugh, perfect job. Hermes bag and belt? no problem.

Here she is, The Blonde Salad. I don’t particularly like this Missoni piece. The colour palette is too candy cane-ish. But she styled it pretty nicely with that gorgeous Celine bag. I would recommend this look for a sophisticated girl.

Sweet for winter! Love the pop of colour the Missoni skirt gives this outfit. It seems very nonchalant, as though she wears this skirt on a weekly cycle.

love her outfit! it’s adorable, let’s face it. She could add a hint of sport by wearing her hair pulled back in a ponytail. yes!

Tweet]]> http://www.whatevereurotrash.com/wp/2012/01/26/missoni-week-street-style/feed/ 2 http://www.whatevereurotrash.com/wp/2012/01/24/missoni-week-my-favourite-missoni-ads/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=missoni-week-my-favourite-missoni-ads http://www.whatevereurotrash.com/wp/2012/01/24/missoni-week-my-favourite-missoni-ads/#comments Tue, 24 Jan 2012 14:50:41 +0000 admin http://www.whatevereurotrash.com/wp/?p=4063 Gisele in Missoni ads – my all-time favourite campaign.

Missoni started as a small knitwear business run by Ottavio and Rosita Missoni in the 1950s. A baby brand but as Emilia points out, one that flourished in the image of a prosperous post-war Italy. Missoni goes hand in hand with that silly, quasi-cartoon aesthetic that brought the likes of Swatch watch and Pino Daniele, coloured reading glasses and Levi jeans to the token Italian look. Since then the brand has grown in the hands of first-generation Missoni children into a world class luxury fashion house – but overall, Angela Missoni (creative director) has stayed true to her parents’ kaleidoscopic vision – colouring outside the lines whenever need be.

If there’s any brand that embodies the effortless chic of being Eurotrash, it’s Missoni. There’s something so patently European about the colour zigzags that catch the discerning eye from miles away. As a sort of homage to the brand, Eurotrash shares a series of illustrations, articles and photographs that should sorta make you fall in love at first sight, or for some of us, all over again.

Part of the celebrations include a series of illustrations by Toronto-based illustrator, Lisa Nishimura. Such a shy girl to talk to at first, but her art speaks volumes about the caliber of artist you’re dealing with. I asked her a few questions about her work and her ambitions as she coloured away these gorgeous illustrations of Margherita Missoni. Having her pieces here on the blog is so super exciting for me!

Lisa Nishimura illustration of Margherita Missoni for Whatever Eurotrash

Eurotrash (ET): How integral is fashion illustration to the process of creating a fashion collection and/or piece?
Lisa Nishimura (LN): I think fashion illustration is integral to any piece as it’s the
starting point to the creative process.

(ET): Do you feel that fashion illustration is underrated in Toronto?
(LN): Fashion illustration as an art form is underrated in the industry as a
whole I find. I think there are only a handful of really talented
fashion illustrators who are successful and can make a living solely
in this field.

Lisa Nishimura x a la mode Christmas postcard inspired by Burberry Prorsum FW 2011.

(ET): For you, what does being “inventive” mean when approaching your drawings? (I’m thinking of how you paired the little red riding hood theme to the burberry collection etc)
(LN): I don’t often get the chance (or have the time) to be inventive with
my drawings as I only do them part-time. With the postcard, I did have
a bit more time to come up with an idea to incorporate the fashion
into. I think it makes the illustrations more compelling when there is
a backstory or situation even though the clothing is a masterpiece
itself. I also try not to interpret too much with the fashion to stay
true to the designer’s creation.

(ET): Is fashion illustration the future? Or at least, will it become just as important as photography (appearing alongside photographic ads in magazines)
(LN): Hopefully it is the future. It feels sort of precious right now as
it’s not that prevalent in fashion magazines.

(ET): What would you love to illustrate, if you could pick anything/anyone?
(LN): I would love the chance to draw at some fashion shows at NYFW as the
models come down the runway. I think that would be an awesome
experience!

For more info about Lisa’s work please visit her website sketchandpixel.wordpress.com!

This is a love story. This is the story of how my soul mate and I finally came together after years of struggle. This is the story of Missoni and me.

I grew up in the 1980s and 1990s. My immigrant parents are italophiles who brought my siblings and I back to Italy every summer. We’d spend two months on the Argentario, the Amalfi Coast, the Italian Riviera. We’d listen to Lucio Battisti and Claudio Baglioni singing about summer love affairs at the seaside. I would see women on the lungomare in cork sandals, billowing kaftans and headscarves, bright colours in squiggles, zigzags and stripes evoking the bliss and freedom of summertime. These were the prints of Missoni, bold colours and patterns that spoke to Italy’s new-found place in modern Europe, an Italy still reveling in the prosperity of its miracle decade, the pains of the Euro yet years away.

When I became conscious of fashion years later, I coveted Missoni. Its multicoloured prints spoke to me like no other, and I yearned to pile print on print on print. I promised myself that when I “grew up”, I would wear only Missoni. The problem was, of course, the price. Missoni’s knits (and we are talking Missoni, not M Missoni, or Missoni for Target, or any other unfortunate lapse into democratic fashion, though Mare is fair game) come at a pretty penny: it’s rare to find a piece under $1000 USD, although the beloved classics zigzags go for more. As a result, I was all grown-up (or so they keep telling me) and didn’t have ONE Missoni piece. Like other premier designer labels, Missoni just seemed so unattainable.

That is, until last November. In the brief valley between Fall and Resort collections, I experienced a revelation. Here I was. 26 years old, certainly trendy but not fashionable. I have some amazing accessories and several great pairs of shoes, but a Chanel bag doesn’t make you Anna Dello Russo. Far from it. Moreover, I found myself very much caught up in trends. Coloured jeans Fall 2011? Check. Jumpsuit and marine stripes summer 2009? Check. Leopard print Cruise 2011/2012? Check. It suddenly occurred to me that I was spending so much money on so many pieces that I would inevitably shy away from the next season. My wardrobe wasn’t getting bigger or better with all the money I was spending. Instead, I had to start from scratch, essentially, every new season.

I decided that I wanted to make the transition into that small group of real fashionistas, that tiny circle represented by Anna, Garance Doré et aliae who you see sprinting between shows at Paris fashion week or posing for pictures with André Leon Talley. I mean, no pap will snap my picture as I walk into Yorkdale. But you see what I’m getting at (I hope). I wanted to turn fashion into less of a trend-oriented activity towards something more permanent. Of course, although my creative capital is boundless, my actual capital is not. Thus, I do not expect to blossom into Chiara Ferragni tomorrow, or even next year. But I’m on my way, which leads me back to where I began.

In November 2011, then, I decided to dedicate myself to Missoni, my true love. Gone are the days of spending several thousands dollars a season on ephemeral trends. Instead, I have begun to buy only Missoni (besides the strictly necessary, like jeans and white t-shirts). Since Toronto is a terrible place to buy Missoni (stores in the city only get a few of the most conservative pieces and I find the prices something like 20% higher than elsewhere), I spend my free moments monitoring online stores for zigzags in size 38. Admittedly, it’s feast or famine. Once I splurge on a good piece, that’s it for me for the next little while. Nevertheless, the pain and sacrifices are worth it, as I know I’m working towards a greater goal.

I’m at 5 pieces so far, and I have another piece arriving any day now. I really do feel as if this is it for me. I see myself in 30 years old piling print upon print upon print like in my dreams (I’ll have to remain a 38 for life!), channeling the carefree days in Italy of my youth. When I wear my stripes and zigzags, I just know this is love. And let me tell you, I never knew there was a love like this before.

Eurotrash and friends! Emilia is the lady on the far right wearing her Missoni tank and red Chanel lips. 

***

Emilia Barbiero is a PhD candidate at University of Toronto. She writes about ancient poetry, you know Latin and Greek stuff? And is in general, a fountain of knowledge. But you wouldn’t know all this by looking at her. No, instead this long-haired, stunning, size 0 beauty is on first glance the girl of your fashion dreams. Emilia and I are the original founders of this blog – you see we made a pledge back in grade 9 to adhere to the eurotrash aesthetic. And we kept it. She, in dressing like a runway model every time I see her, spending summers in the medi on a yacht and winters in Paris – me, in writing about it and sharing Eurotrash with the rest of the world. I’m so honoured to have her guest post here on Eurotrash today. I hope you all enjoyed her piece. 

 Margherita Missoni illustration by Lisa Nishimura for Whatever Eurotrash sketchandpixel.wordpress.com

The flu almost got the best of me last week but plenty of rest, oil of oregano, vegan soup and carrot juice got me through. Today I’m proud to announce the beginning of the MISSONI celebration here on Eurotrash. The house is a classic example of luxury knitwear in it’s most idiosyncratic form. The token Missoni prints and patterns have become synonymous with European chic. Once you see those stripes, you know the kind of lady you’re dealing with. Enjoy the subtle missoni-fied changes we made here on the blog and tune in for some special Missoni related posts, illustrations and photo shoots in the upcoming days!

xo Eurotrash

We packed our Weekenders. Some had Louis, some Balenciaga. You know, Giant. Covered.

Set sail for some island in the medi on which they do lots and lots of

drugs in the music

in the salt water that stays in your hair long after the tide rolls in the deep. like Adele, but not as sad.

We Came To Party.

or at least that’s what the brochure says.

I just came to fuck on a Wally. Wear Couture, Kiss your boyfriend on the lips, sorry.

She pours me a tall glass of champagne by the bottle, on the bottle.

On her. Quest que c’est? Pardon, je ne parle pas French. Louis, Coco, you know? Gaultier?

Yeah, yeah. Big Macs and a supersize order of French fries.

Exactly.

I’m at the head of the ship, giving head, with this song in my head from The XX.

Glaciers have melted to the sea. Things have gotten closer to the sun. I wish the tide would take me over. And I’ve done things in small doses. I’ve been down onto my knees. So don’t think that I’m pushing you away. And you just keep on getting closer. When you’re the one that I’ve kept closest.

Colors magazine was the first magazine I ever read. I must’ve been around 10 years old. I remember the issue, too. It included a story about a vending machine in Japan that sold women’s dirty panties in a neat little package. I’m not even lying. As you can see, the issue scarred me for life. A recent visit proved nothing has changed at this magazine – their latest quarterly issue is dedicated  to shit. I love this photograph, though, taken for the feature on Mongolian transvestites who brace the morning dawn after a drunken vigil, adorned in traditional Mongolian folk costumes.

Forgive the unconventionality of this post for a Eurotrash, fun-loving, light-hearted blog. Who’s kidding who? I get contentious about everything up in here. My latest beef to pick sort of stems from something I’ve been thinking about recently and has come up in various forms here and there. What’s with girls putting up photos of themselves in lingerie on twitter, Facebook, etc? What kind of message (if any) do those kinds of pictures send out to other girls and other guys and people in relationships?

First of all let me preface this by saying that I was particularly upset to find one such chick tweeting my significant other and I all of a sudden went into a panic tizzy. Jealousy, maybe? But of what? I trust my guy. No, there was something more in all of this that I couldn’t figure out. Sure, it bothered me that he tweeted back. But if the convo is platonic why should it make me feel dirty?

I tweeted: “If your twitter pic is of u in lingerie stop tweeting my boyfriend, thanks. #skank”.

To which I got the following replies:

“needs to start throwing slaps at bitches”

“lol! you tell her girl”

“you tell her!!!! (Is it wayne gretsky’s daughter?)” -

And just like that I realized I wasn’t alone in my plight against scantily clad women in seductive poses seizing the attention of my male object of desire. So I did what any other girl with half a sense of entitlement would do: I creeped the bitch. Turns out she defines herself as a “Designer; UFC/MMA Lover; Xyience Girl; Just an Ordinary Girl living an Extra-Ordinary Life” and has over 1000 followers on twitter, following only 300. I mean, if my twit pic was of me taking off my thigh-highs in bed, panties and tits out, and my profile description included UFC/MMA lover I think I’d easily get 1000 followers, too. In fact I’m almost tempted to try it. (also interesting fact, she changed her photo this morning to her legs in heels, how 1932 of her).

What I’m most concerned with however is mine, and other girls’ reactions. All the girls who tweeted back at me are in committed relationships. Coincidence? I think not. In fact I think it’s quite telling as to how social expectations shape our reactions to public displays of female sexuality. Let me also preface this by saying that I’m not one of those virgin mary types, either. I’ve always believed that being open about sexuality is the optimal way to live life. However, I find myself to be more “behind closed doors” sexual now that I’m in a relationship versus when I was single. It just feels inappropriate to be tweeting about blow jobs in general when I’m clearly only giving them to one person. It’s like all of a sudden sex and sexuality becomes extremely private for me when I’m in a relationship. And I doubt I’m the only girl to think like so.

Is it that as females in heterosexual relationships we feel we can’t slut it up (in public, at least) for fear of being deemed inappropriate or disrespectful. And is it our jealousy of the girl who can slut it up in public that makes us (me) so upset? Is this the same reason why girls, in general, loathe it when their boyfriend’s go to strip clubs? I wouldn’t particularly care if my boyfriend went to a ripper because I really don’t want to be that girl. Looking, however, is very different from tweeting at. It’s this misogynist, sexist rule engraved in most “respectable” women’s minds that showing the goods only means one thing. That’s why slutty girls have been chastised in social circles always and forever. I mean have you ever watched Malena? A town widow who all of a sudden sluts up her look, grabbing all the attention of the town’s sons, husbands, and boyfriends is eventually beaten and shunned by the mothers, wives and girlfriends. Is it my Italian Roman Catholic upbringing, similar to that of the characters in Giuseppe Tornatore’s film, that is at work here? I doubt it.

I think this phenomenon is much more ubiquitous and inclusive than we’d like to admit. As much as women are lead to believe that we are free to run topless in the streets, have multiple sexual encounters, sex on the first date etc., for some reason when we’re in relationships all that has to stop. And god forbid our man gives an iota of attention to the girl who continues to put her body on display – it’s like, ‘fuck you, buddy. Don’t you see that I could do that, too, but have an ounce of decency, out of respect for you, not to?’ That’s how I really felt when I saw Miss Come Hither and my man exchange a few tweets about motorcycles (obviously). I’ll talk to you about motorcycles and George Saint Pierre in a headlock while you can stare at my tits in lace and ribbon. Give me a break. And even though it may not really have been that (at least on his end) it certainly only comes across as that, on my end.

We all know how to be seductive. We all know how to turn a man on. We all know how to pose like Playboy models. So it comes as no surprise that we can detect when another chick is doing just that. But I really think it’s the fact that it would be totally inappropriate for a girl in a committed relationship to do the same that makes us (me) get totally angry and disgusted. And maybe we should. Maybe we should change our twitter pics to the above picture and talk to other random boys about motorcycles and big shiny things, vroom, vroom. If all girls did it then I really would have no argument whatsoever.

I’d love to hear both male and female thoughts on this. In the meantime, I’m changing my twitter photo and looking for new followers. Field work.