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Something to chase those wintry blues away. A take on pressed flowers. Just hopped off the Eurostar. As freezing here as it was in London. I seriously recommend Uniqlo’s HEAT TECH thermals to ward off the cold and keep your delicate bits nice and toasty. In fact they work so well  that I’m seriously considering doubling them up and doing away with trousers all together. Now I really understand why girls are so attached to leggings. You feel kind of free but somehow held together.

Hmmph, food for thought…

Orlando Bloom as cover boy. As if we needed convincing? We’re sold, Mr Uniqlo, you clever man.



La Jeune Fille: 1978, French Edition, Laffont, France

I popped into Ofr. the other day. Its a bookshop cum gallery on rue Dupetit Thours [metro: arts e metiers/ temple] that I’ve mentioned before. Considering its only round the corner I hadn’t been there for a while. Perhaps out of fear — I never leave there empty-handed. NEVER.

Anyway, I browsed the shelves for about 30 minutes. There wasn’t much that interested me this time, strangely.  I’d spotted the new Marc Jacobs/Juergen Teller book in the window post-dinner a few nights ago so I’d been wanting to check it out. It’s OK. Quite hefty. I don’t know. I didn’t feel that familiar pull towards it. I’m more a Wolfgang Tillmans kind of guy, even though you can’t really compare the two, even though its perfectly OK to like both.

Anyway, I digress. David Hamilton. I knew about his work but it was the first time I’d come across his books in a shop — I think. I believe that books find you, not the other way around. There it was, high up on a shelf at the back of the shop. La Jeune Fille/ The Young Girl. First edition. In pretty good nick. I reached up, pulled it down, flicked through and yes, that familiar pull… I HAD to have it.

Hamilton wasn’t fond of working with professional models. And you really understand why. I like the way he captures that fleeting moment of girls on the cusp, oh, what the hell, precipice of change. How wordy does that sound! He is no stranger to controversy with the predictable, unimaginative tag of child pornography being thrown at him more than a few times. There is nothing even slightly “dirty” about his pictures. Technically they are brilliant. There is a gentleness to the light that caresses his subjects. And they are incredibly beautiful images. I find them very calm and quiet. You, the observer, is invited to just simply watch. The subject’s gaze is either direct and inviting or blissfully unaware >> IN HER SOLITUDE.  The tone of the pictures is sweet and innocent rather than provocative and sexual. They seem more sensual and celebratory as opposed to exploitative.

In a way they are quite painterly. Their stillness and muted tones make me think of a Vermeer or Hammershoi, dipped in sepia. I also like the focus on fabric and hair, giving the images a textural couterpoint, the way the aforementioned artists captured the lush heaviness of a silk duchesse, for instance.

A timely purchase, perhaps, as the controversial Larry Clark exhibition continues to pull in the crowds. The two couldn’t be more poles apart but for the naysayers taboo is taboo, I guess. Let it rest, guys.


visit: Ofr. system


Some photographs I took back in the summer. I liked the shadows cast on the stairs. The sort of zig zag. And the intense red of the door.


One of my favourite colours. Strong, intense and bloody.

I guess its an ode to Kertesz, the great photographer, on whom I shall do a post shortly. Been meaning to do that for ages.

As you’ve noticed tweaked things a bit. New background colour. Deep, slate GREY. Another of my favourites. I like the way it makes the images pop a bit more. Let’s see how long this lasts. Will probably get bored of it before long!

Ah, well. A complete change of tactic. From abject seediness to dewy-eyed poignancy in one quick swipe of the bluetooth keyboard_


It does what it says on the tin. Readers submit a picture of their mother along with a few lines to accompany the shot.

Its a simple and elegant concept that somehow navigates the schmaltz to produce something quietly, powerfully beautiful.

all images taken from

Not that this matters but I might as well finish off the saga_

Vanity 6 was a short-lived affair. Sordid tales of sex and egos resulted in lead singer, Vanity [real name Denise Matthews] leaving the group to pursue a — you guessed it — short-lived solo career. The hits failed to materialise and poor Denise became a born again Christian — I’m not making this up. Fair Denise was replaced by Patricia Kotero – her evil nemesis who went by the stage name Apollonia.


Apollonia 6 was born with the subtly titled debut album, Sex Shooter. Once again success eluded the girl group and they disbanded in the mid 80s. You can’t flog a dead horse or,

to paraphrase ” D”‘s, my Parisian girlfriend’s malapropism:

“You can’t F*ck

a dead horse.”

I like her version much better. I guess you could but I’m sure that its an illegal act and, at the very least, not very pleasant. Apollonia was last seen in 1984, scouring the streets of Brooklyn for her skirt…

Actually, I lie. She did a 10 week stint on Falcon Crest, that other 80s gem, appearing as her fully-clothed self.