Photoshop scandals

Never mind not believing a word you read, never believe the picture in front of you is real. Or at least undoctored. Pretty much every picture in a magazine will have been photoshopped. Sometimes just to readjust the contrast, or alter the levels of light - most often to smooth skin, take out an unsightly logo/cab/person standing in the background and sometimes flipped around entirely to fit the necessary space. Which is why I'm confused by this s0-claimed anti-photoshop crusade at the moment. Whilst I totally agree with the statement from photographer Peter Lindbergh - who has just made his own statement by photographing supermodels without make-up for French Elle - that 'heartless retouching should not be the chosen tool to represent women in the beginning of this century', a few bare-faced pictures do not a campaign make. A token three pages of People magazine's Top 100 Most Beautiful People in the World issue dedicated to Z-listers willing to be photographed wearing 'just moisturiser' cannot count as a revolution. Buy my personal favourite irony of fashion's whole fashionable anti-retouching movement? Conde Nast's new magazine, LOVE. Katie Grand might have picked Beth Ditto - yes, all 20 stone of her - as her coverstar and she might have written her entire editor's letter about not airbrushing one of her bulging curves out in the images. But she failed to remove the 'Retouching Studio's' credit from the masthead. Oopsie. 

Status symbols

I received this little gift from Louis Vuitton for supporting them editorially on a story recently. It was totally unnecessary - the story was already done, dusted and published - but nice nonetheless to have waiting for you on your desk on a rainy Wednesday morning. Then someone told me how much it retails for. As in how much people will actually spend to get their hands on this wooden bracelet, carved with leopard print and the LV symbol. £250. Oh, and can I point out, too, that you can't wear this bracelet alone. It's made for 'stacking' with a series of other chunky bracelets that if you don't already have hanging around your house, you'd better head to COS to pick up before even thinking about debuting it. Now, this LV bracelet is divine. It's heavy and shiny enough to weigh just reassuringly enough on your wrist and spin around when you're bored in meetings. It's an amazing gift to be given. But the fact that people are prepared to pay the equivalent of a flight to New York on a status symbol that'll sit around their wrist for a season, I find frankly ridiculous. Because make no mistake that it's a status symbol. Something keen fashionistas - or should I say those that want you to know they're one and can afford to be - will buy and get a buzz of self satisfaction every time they wear it, beaten only when someone else recognises it for what it is. The tragic thing is that now I've got it, I'm sure as hell gonna wear it. Forget eBay, when in my world that half-glance-have-to-look-again type of accessory is too important (and ok, delicious) to pass up. Does that make me a fashion victim? Maybe. 

I've just seen the (first) Chanel movie...

... and even though reviews are strictly embargoed until 27th June, I will say this. I hadn't realised what a feminist that Coco Chanel was! She rocks. (Though her excessive smoking throughout the movie will leave you gagging for a fag - so maybe the French were right to ban the official poster?). The unbelievably gorgeous Audrey Tautou plays the fiercely ambitious young designer who founded Chanel at a time when men ruled the world and proved fashion rebels can be seriously chic. Because the costumes. Oh my god, the costumes. Overseen by Karl Lagerfeld, with some original pieces from the Chanel archive, they're deliciously and revolutionary austere. I'm in love with the white waistcoat, starched cuffs, strings of pearls and tweed suit.

Bag Ladies

I've been trying to buy a new bag for months now but I can't seem to decide on which one. It's an serious undertaking after all. You're spending the equivalent of a city break on a piece of leather, which, though justifyable considering you'll carry it pretty much every day, means it needs to be right. The problem is that in this day and age of 'It' bags/'Anti-It' bags (yeah, whatever...) every bag you buy comes with an association. Let's dissect...

Mulberry: I was at Bicester Village/the Somerset factory/another unnamed outlet store and it was either this Bayswater or Tommy Hilfiger. 

Smythson: Bond Street dwelling, Tory voting yummy mummy. Funny that!

Anya Hindmarch: Ditto above. Unless you're a fashion editor. Then it's a freebie. 

Prada: You don't exactly love it but it's Prada. And that's a serious label. 

Miu Miu: You can't afford Prada. But you'll pretend this is the cooler, younger, hipper version. 

YSL: Congratulations. You got yourself on the 4-yearly fashion editor freebie cycle. But as it's a black Downtown (aka. 2005) aren't you due an upgrade? 

Chanel: I spent my redundancy cheque on this 2.55 so even though it holds barely more than my BlackBerry I'm sure as hell going to make sure it dangles from my shoulder. 

Marc by Marc Jacobs: I went to New York two years ago when the exchange rate was still good and bought the shop. 

Marc Jacobs: Ditto above. Only I'm richer. 

I've come to the conclusion I only have two options. High street or Alexander Wang's just-launched and therefore not-yet-high-profile-enough-to-become-hackneyed slouchy tote. Now where can I find £650? 

Are you wearing trainers?

It's oft said folk in fashion stay skinny with bucket loads of cocaine and very little food. And though there are plenty for whom I know that's true, there are some who seem to believe in exercise too. Exercise, I hear you say? Like in trainers? Yep, really. Recently it seems more and more fashionistas are swapping their Alaia heels for Adidas trainers. Vogue.co.uk editor Dolly Jones did the London marathon this year, raising £15,982.48 for charidee with donations from designers Roksanda Illncic and Antonio Berardi as well as the British Fashion Council's Hilary Riva. Grazia's Editor-in-Chief Jane Bruton just wrote about her experiences, which saw Anya Hindmarch and Paul Smith digging deep into their pockets to help her raise £6,551. And I've just discovered the amazingly groomed and gorgeous PR for Louis Vuitton, Marsha, completed two out of the seriously hardcore Three Peaks challenge - where you climb Snowdon, Ben Nevis and Scafell Pike in 24 hours. Who knew sweaty wristbands and lycra were so fashionable? 

Sample sale scrums

It's rare that anyone in fashion pays full price for anything. Aside from the freebie whoring and gifting that goes on, pretty much every high end and high street store gives out discount cards (GAP and Topshop's are most coveted) and, over time, most editors will develop a 'special relationship' with a designer who'll give them key pieces each season. So you'd think sample sales would be oh-so serene; almost an afterthought. Not a chance! WWD has a report today of New Yorkers literally trampling over women (pregnant and otherwise) to get their hands on half-price Manolo Blahnik at the press sale and I've been in many a similar scrum this side of the ocean. 

By far the jewel in the crown of UK sample sales is Chanel's. It's the only way you'll ever get your hands on discounted Chanel as the fashion house is so protective of it's brand it would rather burn unsold goods than allow them to be sold to the likes of TK Maxx. (Tragic, non?) Invites are limited strictly to those who've heavily 'supported' the brand in the past six months, they're non transferable and you're expected to bring your passport with you to verify identification when paying. I'm entirely serious. Fashion assistants luckily enough to have made the list arrive at Claridges from 6am, dressed down in flats, jeans and as few layers as possible - essential when you're going to be trying on jackets in between cramped rails. Fashion editors and a few stylists get there at 9am to see the queue snaking around the block. No one dares queue jump such is the competition to pick up two-piece Chanel suits for £100, shoes for £50, jewellery starting at £20 and bags that would retail for thousands of pounds for a fraction of the price. When the doors open promptly at 9.30am, the first girls in the queue run - literally run - across the marble floors of the hotel's lobby. Bags disappear first, swept up by the first 10 people in the door, and jewellery's not far behind (it's not there every season so considered a luxury). Then you inevitably go on to buy at least three times more than you'd budgeted for - not necessarily because you love it, but just because it's Chanel. The majority will sit in your wardrobe unworn for years, but at least you'll have something to show and tell when you get back to the office that's been deserted for the morning.

Not all sample sales are as crazy as Chanel. Christian Louboutin - where you can get the famous red-soled shoes from about £100 - almost competes in terms of the queueing system. Stella McCartney always draws a crowd but is mostly famous for the hideous lack of anywhere to change. You're literally forced to strip down in the middle of a warehouse and fight your way through ten people to get a corner of a mirror if you want to purchase that £40 silk playsuit. Burberry only ever put the most obvious pieces from last season in their sample sale and it's not that cheap. By far my favourite, is the Prada/Miu Miu one. It's calm enough that you can get there at 2pm, have a cup of tea with the PRs, and still manage to get your hands on serious bargains. We're talking shoes from £40 and bags from £80. There's only one sacrosanct rule of sample sales: never admit that's where your amazing new purchases came from in the outside world... 

I wanna be a supermodel!

It's funny meeting a supermodel. First of all you don't give a damn about what you're wearing. Because unlike interviewing a current Hollywood heartthrob (where you obviously want to make yourself look your best just in case!) you know you're never gonna come even close to her. But you are near obsessed with how she looks and can't help but analyse everything she says, every move she makes and how many cookies she eats in an attempt to look normal. So I was with Elle Macpherson today. I'm ashamed to admit I was kind of pleased to see crows feet around her eyes, slight liver spots on her cheeks. Slightly smug that she might be a 45-year-old supermodel but she still applies a spot of powder (MAC, since you ask) in the corner before a digital camera is turned on her. And asks you not to zoom in too close. Things I liked less: the way she scoffed down brownies but still had a to-die-for figure - I'm resurrecting my J Brand Lovestory jeans and buying a sequined jacket tomorrow - and the way she clearly just turns it on for the camera/important fashion editor before reverting to sulking on the sofa glued to her BlackBerry. Mind you it'd be brilliant if she was on Twitter...  

GAP does it again

At the risk of this blog reading like planted viral marketing tool for GAP (that's more something DVF would do), they really are on fire right now. After presenting an A/W '09 collection that - yet again - had fashion editors thanking Gucci they've worked so hard in the past for their 30% discount cards, they're about to launch their annual collection with the winners of the CFDA Awards in America. In the past it's been white shirts by Philip Lim and the Rodarte sisters, but this year of course they've got fashion's wunderkid Alexander Wang reworking khaki. It shouldn't work. Wang is an edgy, 24-year-old famous for his model-meets-rock-chick designs and the man everyone in the industry, not to mention young Hollywood, wants to wear. How could he work with the fabric worn by the Oxford college 'Rahs' with boat shoes, a blue shirt and a signet ring? Exceptionally well, it turns out. He's designed a parka style khaki coat, with a utilitarian-style zip and the three buttons. It's perfect. I'll be wearing it thrown over floral dresses, with rolled up jeans, a white tank and last year's heeled gladiators, and mini skirts and brogues with colourful socks. That is if I can get hold of it. GAP are only producing limited numbers, cleverly making Wang's collection even more covetable. Still, I dropped enough hints - yikes, am I turning into a freebie whore? - and GAP are such prolific gifters that I might just get my hands on one. Fingers crossed...