With her European style and heritage, a suitcase full of her now iconic jersey wrap dresses, and plans to launch in New York the future was definitely going to be bright for Diana von Furstenberg. Since 1974 the world has been blessed with the effortless cool of Diana’s sense of style. Super sweet, sexy, ultra feminine yet practical is the allure of the brand, women from all over the world have fallen in love with the woman who designs clothes for women, it is very evident to see why in her latest Spring/Summer 12 show.

Ladylike shift dresses with dipped hems, drapey utility separates with a sporty feel and feminine prints floated down the runway. The simplistic ease at which her clothes are designed is what makes them so chic; a little pleat here or sequin there it’s all in the minute details that show off her understanding of what women really want to wear.  Day dressing has been given a sports luxe feel with a white linen pleated tennis dress, as for work wear-the silhouette is sculptural in muted colours whilst an organised chaos of sequins, florals and candy colours will surely make dinner dates interesting!

 Her use of rich and sumptuous colours have been carried forward to her AW12 show; even featuring in her past AW11 show and of course print. Diana Von Furstenberg is definitely a staple in women’s wardrobes across the globe having been quoted “that her mission in life is to empower women” it’s more than safe to say that her clothes do just that. 

Images: Style.com, Net-a-porter.com

 

Written and Complied by Melissa.

 

 

Spring is well and truly here and we all know April to be the month to bless us with showers from the heavens above. Staying chic in the rain used to be something which was glamorously portrayed by 1930’s Hollywood actresses’ and it seemed it was something only they could do exceedingly well, with wide brim umbrellas and porters to carry their luggage, they never put a foot out of place nor their umbrella.However the last few seasons, designers have been inspired by the elements and adhering to our needs with their fabulous but practical coats. Hearing our fashion cries and answering prayers was Christopher Bailey at Burberry Prorsum. Upbeat with a quirky edge and full of colour the looks were truly a breath of fresh air for the renowned coat company.  

With an array of designers giving us practical stylish coats, here at Splerin we’ve chosen a few that fit in with this seasons ‘graphite’ trend. Take classic styles like the Mac in muted tones such as taupe, beige and khaki, the hooded parka adds an element of country cool whilst-accessorises with fun prints and Chelsea boots will see to it that being chic and practical in the rain will not be a pain.  

 L-R Moncler- £505 matchesfashion.com, Burberry Prorsum-£1985 net-a-porter.com, MaxMara- £620 matchesfashion.com, Marc by Marc Jacobs-£615 matchesfashion.com,Zara-£99 zara.com, Marc by Marc Jacobs-£40 net-a-porter.com, Topshop-£70 topshop.com 

Images:www.itcantallbedior.blogspot.co.uk 

 Complied and Written by Melissa. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is confidence followed by talent and/or good looks or is it the other way around? It might seem odd to refer to good looks and talent as something that is gained. But it is not an alien or unconceivable thought.

'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder' is the cliched saying. So it is possible that if confidence was factored out of the equation, we would all be equally good looking. Hmm. 

Once on the tube there were three girls. As usual, but foreign to me still, they were talking loud enough for the people on the opposite end of the carriage to hear. Occasionally they would say something startling or interesting and ten heads would turn, and faces would become animated. Micro-conversations would form for a second, some about topics these ladies brought up, others about their choice of dress. 

They looked like halloween characters, witches to be precise. They wore heavy make up, one had a brimmed hat, and each one had at least one piece of clothing that was made of velvet. One lady wore a skirt that fell past her knees and flared out uncontrollably. She accompanied the skirt with black leather boots that were high enough to only leave a peep of her leg-skin showing when she stood up. Her friend had black fishnet stockings that formed diamonds about her pale, veiny legs.

Most people looking on would view them as charicatures, or odd, or delusioned. But they chatted there across the lane of seats with the broadest smiles, laughing at each other's jokes and not once giving any sign of insecurity--no quick glances left and right or sudden lowered voices during touchy parts of conversations. It made me think maybe I am delusioned, and their world is the real world. The beauty they feel in themselves and see in each other is perhaps what real beauty looks like. Maybe velvet is perpetually la mode. 

In their case they believe they are beautiful, and are confident in their beauty, so even in their oddity do they make people question how they view them. I am sure there were more people that thought about the possibility of those three girls being the real representation of beauty. Some may have even touched their perfectly straight noses and wished it were curved a bit more like the 'witches'. 

If confidence was factored out of this equation, they would be conventionally unpretty, and possibly shunned by the velvet haters of the fashion world. But ultimately it is a battle of confidence, not of looks or talent. Because even the most unconvincingly attractive or talented person could surface the greatest insecurities in another unanimously-agreed gorgeous or talented person.

It is the one that loves her nose, and positions it high in the air, that turns heads, and really makes a person consider the true meaning of beauty. 

 

 

You scan, critically, every inch of your face; the shadows under your chin that define it either as single, doubt or a traumatic triple, the countless red spots from rebellious dirt forcing it's way to the surface--no sign of where such nasty bacteria leaped onto your skin--and the engraved lines like sword-made scars between the eyebrows. But oh, a soft, inviting gloss over the eyes makes the deep brown like rich soil, or the blue like the fairest weather, those eyes smile from the mirror, and you smile back saying, 'I love my eyes,' and remember the time a stranger looked into them and said the same. Then your lips, chapped by the wind and dried by the summer sun, seem unfavorable enough to make you not want to get into conversation, so as to never draw attention to the skin peeling off the corners of your lips. Embarrassing. And your hair strands are like restless children pointing in a million directions. You pat an odd strand down or behind the ears, but another one pops up, no use. In raising your hand to your head you realise the skin hanging dearly to your triceps and you wiggle your arm like a surrendering chicken hoping there won't be much motion other than that you voluntarily cause. But the wiggle is a relentless one, teasing you about your eating habits that send invincible fat cells to your arms, waist, stomach, chin and rear end. By this time, only a few seconds into your mirror-watching, your reflection has grown more unacceptable than before, skin more oily and patchy, shirt too tight around the shoulders, minute stains on your pants pocket, and all over bulging fat through the thin fabric of your clothes. Such transformation is mental, your scrutiny of your faults magnifies them so that not even your best feature compensates. You leave the bathroom dejected, often muttering 'whatever, it is too late to fix how I look now,' slapping your palms against your thighs in frustration. Then, as you walk by an acquaintance, who you greet with only a quick glance before returning your stare to the ground, smiles and says, 'You look really pretty today.' Because the truth is that beauty is undeniable, even if hidden under thick glasses, red spots or dejected eyes. But witness to and appreciation of your own beauty is always threatened by the mirror exercise.

 

Thank you. Regards, Bianca Walker

 

You scan, critically, every inch of your face; the shadows under your chin that define it either as single, doubt or a traumatic triple, the countless red spots from rebellious dirt forcing it's way to the surface--no sign of where such nasty bacteria leaped onto your skin--and the engraved lines like sword-made scars between the eyebrows. But oh, a soft, inviting gloss over the eyes makes the deep brown like rich soil, or the blue like the fairest weather, those eyes smile from the mirror, and you smile back saying, 'I love my eyes,' and remember the time a stranger looked into them and said the same. Then your lips, chapped by the wind and dried by the summer sun, seem unfavorable enough to make you not want to get into conversation, so as to never draw attention to the skin peeling off the corners of your lips. Embarrassing. And your hair strands are like restless children pointing in a million directions. You pat an odd strand down or behind the ears, but another one pops up, no use. In raising your hand to your head you realise the skin hanging dearly to your triceps and you wiggle your arm like a surrendering chicken hoping there won't be much motion other than that you voluntarily cause. But the wiggle is a relentless one, teasing you about your eating habits that send invincible fat cells to your arms, waist, stomach, chin and rear end. By this time, only a few seconds into your mirror-watching, your reflection has grown more unacceptable than before, skin more oily and patchy, shirt too tight around the shoulders, minute stains on your pants pocket, and all over bulging fat through the thin fabric of your clothes. Such transformation is mental, your scrutiny of your faults magnifies them so that not even your best feature compensates. You leave the bathroom dejected, often muttering 'whatever, it is too late to fix how I look now,' slapping your palms against your thighs in frustration. Then, as you walk by an acquaintance, who you greet with only a quick glance before returning your stare to the ground, smiles and says, 'You look really pretty today.' Because the truth is that beauty is undeniable, even if hidden under thick glasses, red spots or dejected eyes. But witness to and appreciation of your own beauty is always threatened by the mirror exercise.

 

Thank you. Regards, Bianca Walker