Tag Archives: fashion

Girl Crushing on Shirley Kurata

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… I mean, not in a creepy way.  I’m not a closeted lesbian sex pest web stalker or anything, but man… Shirley Kurata (she says, dewy eyed).

Don’t get me wrong. I have some seriously stylish friends.  I’m lucky that way.  There’s always someone fabulous around to inspire me/make me look like a stumpy legged troll.  Some chums have fabulous shoes I wish I could walk in.  Some have slinky skinny jeans I wish I could cram my tree-trunk thighs in.  Some have super-cool, super-fuzzy knitwear I wish wouldn’t bring me out in hives. Some have pretty sleeveless dresses I will to be kinder to my bingo wings, etc., etc..  When I’m not eyeing up my pals’ clobber, I spend a ludicrous amount of time pinning stuff on Pinterest and cooing over cute ensembles in my favourite magazines.  Expensive outfits, crazy cool handbags, nail varnish (I know!  Flippin’ nail varnish! Who coos over nail varnish?), hairdos, candy coloured hosiery – all of these things excite me more than they should.  But never – NEVER have I been so utterly bowled over by one gal’s knack of pulling together brilliantly fun, stop-n-stare-in-awe clothing combos until I happened upon Shirley Kurata.  I can’t remember precisely how I stumbled upon Shirley online… She may even have popped up in my eyeballs during a Pinterest sesh?  Regardless, since first getting giddy over the contents of Shirley’s wardrobe, I have committed to making some changes to the way I shop, to the way I look and to the way I rationalise my own fashion choices. Clashy colours are good.  Rainbow hosiery is the key to a happy life (I knew it). Every girl oughta wear sequins to work once in a while. Blondes almost certainly do not have more fun – but I’m betting girls with enormous spectacles (blonde, brunette, whatever) have a rerr terr no matter what. 30-something girls can wear knee high socks if the bloody well like.

This is Shirley Kurata as photographed by Autumn de Wilde for The Daily Shirley. 

Shirley Kurata as photographed by Maia Harms for Refinery 29.

Shirley Kurata as photographed by Autumn de Wilde for The Daily Shirley.

Shirley Kurata as photographed by Autumn de Wilde for The Daily Shirley.

Shirley Kurata is a wardrobe stylist.  She lives in LA.  You can see her work here.

Autumn de Wilde is a photographer/director from.  You can see her work here.

The Daily Shirley a photo diary of Shirely Kurata’s outifts as photographed by Autumn de Wilde.

Her Indoors

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Yestheweatherislovely.  Yesitisveryhot.  Yesitmakesachangefromtheusualwindandrain. Ohyeshere’shopingitlasts. Blahblahblah.

The thing is though,  I can’t come to the park.  Or go to your BBQ.  I can’t hang out on the pavement drinking cider or stroll around the market.  Why?  I’ll tell you why. Firstly, I am from S-c-o-t-l-a-n-d. In temperatures above 14 degrees, my make up falls off, my hair sticks to my forehead, my ankles swell and I get migraines.  That’s just the way life is. There’s nothing I can do about that stuff.  Secondly, Scotland doesn’t really ‘do’ seasons properly.  Mother nature tries her best to keep us right by making leaves fall off stuff at certain times of the year and by cueing the arrival of crocuses, daffodils, primroses and so on at others.  But where the weather is concerned, aside from the rare heatwave, every day kind of feels like autumn and I’ve come to dress accordingly.

You know when you hear about people rotating the content of their wardrobes to suit spring/summer and autumn/winter? I’ve never had to do that.  I wear tights all year round.  And cardigans, vests and boots.  My woollies have never been sucked up in one of those weird vacuum storage bags and my winter coat is just, ‘my coat’.  Well, that was until I moved from the big city to the Even Bigger One.  Since then, whatever semblance of style I had has been  thrown into utter disarray and I find myself (particularly in nice weather) unable to leave the house for lack of suitable attire.

One day, I will grow my summer wardrobe.  One day, these will be in my accessories drawer/on my face…

[You can buy these now if you like.  They're by Tatty Devine and cost £126]

And one day, I will look like this…

And when I do?  I will gladly go with you to the park/come to your BBQ and/or hang out drinking cider on the pavement.

Just to be clear, I have borrowed these photos from http://www.tattydevine.com

High Kicks in Harem Pants

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Ok.  So this wasn’t really the look I was going for.

Now, you crazy kids might be as happy as lambs in spring bouncing around in your MC Hammer harem pants all hours of the day and night, but I did not care for ‘em in the 80s, I did not care for ‘em in the 90s and I do not particularly care for them now.  That’s not to imply I do not understand (and wholebummedly enjoy) the comfort of a baggy trouser.  I do.  I really, really do – and in actual fact, I enjoy schmooshing around in the comfort factor of these babies more than you’d ever believe but –  let’s be frank.  They’re not doing much for me, are they?

I bought my big trousers for £5 from a market stall near Broadway Market yesterday.  A case of mistaken identity. I was excited that they seemed roomy enough to house my enormous arse but also excited that they were nice and narrow at the ankle.   I thought they’d behave more like a pair of peg legs. They don’t.  They behave like a big pair of wind breakers.

So.  There was only one thing to do.  Two things actually.  The first?  Resign myself to the fact I will never be able to wear my new trousers outdoors.  The second? Do high kicks.

 

 

£5 well spent if you ask me.

 

Restoring Balance

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Having discovered some pounds and pence lurking in my Paypal account, I’ve already made some attempt to restore my inner indie balance by purchasing one of these.  I chose the yellow one.  Aren’t they flippin’ amazing?  A long-time Made in the Shade pal, designer maker Lucie Ellen runs one of my favourite small UK accessories labels. I can’t wait to work with her again.  For now though, I’m happy sporting my ‘lil piece of yellow round my neck!

I Love Magic Cos Clothes

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I don’t know if it’s just being away from Glasgow,  the close proximity of the magnificent Westfield Centre over there or what it is, but these days, I feel weary of the well-trodden vintage shopping trail and weirdly, the pages of my Independent Shopping city guide are leaving me cold.  All very out of character.  I feel out of sync with my own self.

While I wait for some renewed indie inspiration and the resurfacing of my creative ‘mojo’ (for want of a better word – and trust me, I really, really wish I could have avoided the word ‘mojo’), I’m amusing myself by revisiting [dun, dun, duuuuuuuun...] The High Street.

I stumbled upon Cos in Glasgow around Christmas time.  I took Santa (my mother) there.  I asked Santa Clause if (s)he might gift me a dress I liked. Santa told me my dream frock made me look 6 months pregnant and subsequently talked me out of it.  In my tummy, I hoped Santa was playing a trick.  You know, one of those classic Santa tricks where (s)he pretends you’re not getting the present you really, really would like very much but then on Christmas Day you’re presented with a surprise parcel and are super pleased to realise Santa didn’t really mean it when (s)he said you looked 6 months pregnant and had only gone and bought your present when you weren’t there to make the whole affair all the more special.  Christmas Day came and went and no Cos frock emerged from any Christmas cubby holes.

I was lucky to receive quite a lot of ‘money-in-a-card’ style presents from aunties and in-laws and as they all totted up, I had more than enough cashola to buy the dress I wanted from Cos myself.  And I did.  I also bought yellow tights and cow print shoes. Convinced this outfit would be the outfit I’d wear in London when I met Mary Portas (who would then obviously go on to think I was quite fabulous, realise very quickly how painfully talented I am and insist I work with her on a Top Secret Project to reinvigorate the retail landscape), I felt the investment was well worth it.

Apart from trying it on once to show Beardy how well my cow print shoes and yellow tights complimented it, I vowed not to wear My Cos Dress outside until I reached London.  When I reached London I vowed not to wear it outside until I was definitely going to be in the same room as Mary Portas.  However, I did decide that it was ok to wear it to have my portrait taken for my Vintage Correspondent 2012 profile.

Since meeting Mary Portas seemed really rather unlikely, I broke the promise and wore my dress to a meeting (albeit a very exciting meeting).  I announced to everyone there, following loads of lovely compliments about my choice of frock, that I’d bought it specially from Cos and that I promised myself I wouldn’t wear it until I felt the occasion was special enough.  ”Today’s the day!”, I shared enthusiastically.  Maybe too enthusiastically.  I’m quite sure the former-fancy-magazine-editor-turned-fancy-Brand-Manager and glamalicious Chief Brand Ambassador thought I was nuts – though really they should think themselves lucky that I didn’t go on to explain that I’d teamed the frock with white tights instead of yellow as originally intended and that I’d ditched my cow print shoes for my mary janes – which, as it happens, I bought specially for the Nokia tour etc., etc.. It’s a shame really.  It’s not their fault I haven’t had any money to buy brand new clothes in over 3 years…

Anyway – the long and short of it?  I am now obsessed with Cos.  I pronounce it Cossss but other people I’ve mentioned it to have pronounced the name Coz.  Like ‘cos’/because.  That’s not right is it?  How could such a lovely fashion brand have such an unpleasant and jaggy name?  I’m sure it must be Cossss.  Do you know?

These are some of the beautiful things you could buy from Cos if you wanted to…

Leather Top 

Reversed Sleeve Top

A-Line Cotton Skirt

Green Elasticated Waist Dress

Flap Pocket Shirt Dress

Leather Pocket Dress

I think it’s quite, quite obvious that I did not take these photographs and I’d point and laugh at the person who thinks I did/thinks I have the brass neck or iffy morals to pass them off as my own.  I have borrowed all product shots from the Cos website.

Now.  Listen up.  The next time someone criticises you or laughs at you or pokes you with one of those novelty plastic walking stick things filled with Smarties when you try explaining that some clothes have special powers, don’t you listen to ‘em!  My Cos Dress?  It IS magic.  And I can prove it.