DIY: Karl Who? bag aka I'm a Lagerfeld clone

--- Sorry for the Photobucket disaster, I have upgraded to pro so it shall not happen again! ---



top & skirt Karl Lagerfeld for H&M, gloves Akultura, sunglasses Alain Mikli, bag DIY

This Karl Who? bag was my first ever DIY (I tend to stay away from DIYs as I'm far more inclined towards clumsiness than successfully finishing projects that require ~skill~) and obviously it was really easy to make -- the most "difficult" part was going to the store to get fabric paint. It didn't dawn on me until a little later though that owning all of his signature pieces (except white hair but I'm going to have plenty of time to rock that later in life) I could actually go for the entire look. Appropriately, the collared shirt is from his 2004 H&M collection.

In other news, I've revamped my blog design and I'm ridiculously in love with this editorial from the September issue of Slovenian Elle:

photography Fulvio Grissoni, project leader Petra Windschnurer, styling Tina Curk, hair Mare Dresura frizure, make-up Luka Leskošek, model Martina for Colors Models Zadar // see the rest here.

I usually don't "get" editorials, but this one is an exception because (1) the model is not anemic and (2) it was shot at Žale, Ljubljana's largest cemetery and an all-around inspiring place; it was projected by Jože Plečnik (the most renowned Slovenian architect ever who was also quite popular in Vienna and Prague) and built between 1938 and 1940. The entrance is structured like a triumphal arch; it is followed by 14 mortuaries with Ancient Greek, Oriental, Byzantine and fantasy influences as Plečnik was fond of the idea of religious equality. He viewed death as something natural and didn't want Žale to become a typical place for mourning, so he used lots of white, ornaments and plants.

"Po britofih druzga ne vidiš kakor sentimentaliteto. Ta pa nima ne tu ne v cerkvi prostora. Ta je za v kot – za doma – v teh prostorih in krajih pa potrebuje človek positivnega – mogočnega – vznesenega – magari veselega."

Jože Plečnik

Žale have always felt foreign to me because they have too much zeitgeist, but on the other hand that's exactly why I like them. They represent a trace of another time and mentality -- in my case the old Ljubljana I never knew, the less crowded Ljubljana of old families - city "noblesse" and Petriček, the legendary confectionery. I don't know whether the person who decided to set the editorial there understands such things, but they're the reason it instantly became my favorite.

Malce sem razočarana, da je bilo treba "avantgardno" naslovnico septembrske Modne Jane zakamuflirati s stranjo s potiskom nedoločljivega izvora. V poplavi svinjarij, pod katerimi se vsakodnevno šibi slovenski tisk, je lahko ta par prsi samo benigen. (right click → View Image, sken je ogromen)

post scriptum:
"и више волим да ми кажеш не него да испадне као да терам те"
zaboga, što te sprječava?

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Superficial Gossip: What I want to know is only the facts

skirt Mojca Makuc, top Y-3, belt Accessorize, shoes Čevljarstvo Vodeb

This is the skirt and shoes I wore to my prom in 2008. The original prom outfit included a top made from the same fabric as the skirt (isn't it beautiful?), but for everyday occasions I think both at the same time would be a little too much although I'm not sure where this concern stems from since I have no hesitation about taking public transportation during rush hours wearing this dress.

I bought the belt at Accessorize at Covent Garden Market in London to go with this outfit and only realized it was dark blue (not black) when I got home. I also need to try it with jeans.

SEVERINA, prekrasna i duhom i tijelom svojim ↔ S kim drugim nego s Mirom Adanja-Polak (легенда) bi ta žena uopće mogla razgovarati o tome kako su je odmalena zanimali ljudi koji na nju nisu obraćali pažnju, ali zbog stidljivosti nije bila u stanju učiniti ništa kako bi tu pažnju dobila, i da je uvijek tražila zanimljive ljude koji bi znali zašto je otpjevala tu i tu pjesmu? Taj elementarni problem nikad nisam znala sročiti toliko zapanjujuće iskreno.

A Magazine curated by Yohji Yamamoto

What I want to know is not trickery
I’ll tell those advertisements for fairly expensive things to shut up
Is it money-making by way of forgery?
And yet I want to look at an abashed mankind

What I want to know is not fishbait
Your cuteness is getting exaggerated
Mirror, mirror, reflect the true nature
of the ego that is almost visible but isn’t
on the water’s surface that keeps drying up
Does this mean you’ll suffer, forgetting even words?

What I want to know is only the facts
Truth is stranger than fiction
Tomorrow is myself

SHIINA RINGO ۞ SG ~SUPERFICIAL GOSSIP~



This song leaves me speechless.
(& gives me mad synesthesia -- pink clouds and running water)

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Milan - the ultimate all-black attire city

Alja, Čudna and Alter muffin -- thanks for the award!


These photos were taken in Milan, Italy in 2005 (I was 15) and the reason I'm posting them is to show that my love for all-black ensembles dates way back. :D For this outfit (skirt + shirt + shoes I'm still wearing 4 years later) I remember having been inspired by sales associates in the stores on Via Montenapoleone -- their outfits were so devoid of color that in my book Milan immediately gained the status of the ultimate all-black attire city. The stores obviously had impeccable air conditioning because it wouldn't be possible to try on winter coats in July without literally fainting from the heat otherwise so the associates were safe in their (often long-sleeved) black "uniforms", but I wanted to adapt their look for the strong sun and take it to the streets.

I loved Milan in 2005 because I felt like a part of it. It's unusual that we clicked so instantly -- the story of my life is that I like all cities, but I'm mostly not on the exact same wave-length with them which ends up being a huge source of spleen because I want to be these cities. The last time I was in Milan, however, I was surprised at how aggressive it had become in the meantime. We got there by train from Geneva where I had fallen sick and had to spend a day in bed so perhaps my sense of everything was exaggerated because I was tired, but the overall impression of those 3 days was far from positive. Even the food at Santa Lucia, my favorite Milanese restaurant, tasted nothing special.

I found this photo by accident browsing old folders the other day -- I didn't even remember I had it. My hotel room in Geneva and the best medicine I could ever want: sushi, lots of water and tea with lemon.

It's stunning how many different people you see at Piazza Duomo (Cathedral Square) at any time of the day -- tourists with enormous shopping bags who just bought half of Gucci (although you're not really elite unless there's a car waiting for you in front of the store and someone else is carrying your bags), businesspeople digesting some variation of lunch rushing to catch a cab, young people completely oblivious to both, the carabinieri, everyone. Compared to the pulse of the Piazza, the legendary concept store 10 Corso Como is an oasis. It's where I touched a Yohji Yamamoto dress for the first time in my life -- I'd seen it on the runway before so the fact that it was suddenly just there was out of this world. I think the only other occasion I was so moved because of a garment(s) was the Hussein Chalayan exhibition at the Design Museum in London last April (you need to see the LED video dresses). 30 minutes I will remember forever.



I really want to spend at least one month in Madrid next summer.

* photo: Anna Tsuchiya in Sakuran

I wrote this years ago, but my life is still the same.

Je suis vraiment desolée mais un beau nom ne suffit pas. Quand j'étais petite, je pleurais pour des autres gens. Hier je pleurais à cause d'autres gens. Aujourd'hui je ne pleure pour personne. Qu'est-ce que c'est le cœur? Il semble que le mien a disparu quand vous avez apparu. "Is it real this pink punk costume I wear all the time to seduce Japanese hommes d'affaires?" Je vous déteste mais je fais encore l'attention à vous. Pourquoi?

---

Il y a une personne que je veux faire ma proie. Je veux qu'elle s'asseye sur une chaise dans une chambre blanche et totalement vide. Je ne veux pas qu'elle bouge. Je veux la regarder longtemps. Je veux marcher autour d'elle comme un lion en attendant son attaque. Mais je ne veux pas la tuer; je veux écouter Milonga del Angel et trembler comme je tremble chaque fois que je la vois. Quand nous sommes toutes seules dans cette chambre blanche, je veux que notre histoire obtienne finalement sa «fin heureuse».

(This is not about love.)



Toliko o tome.




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My love for you is a masterpiece

I'm trying to ignore the fact that fall is more or less here by continuing to wear summer dresses. + very very old photo of the shoes.

I.
The evening when we met was too cold for us to develop any bond going farther than my admiration for you; I was surprised by your detachment from everything and everyone despite the awareness that you rarely put passion even in what you are known to be passionate about. I still wonder what it feels like to be you; the languages, the geographical confusion, how strictly you treat yourself. There are things you will never understand and I will never forget the way you pronounced your name when we shook hands. My inability to sleep that night was the most natural reaction to your indifference.

my love for you is a masterpiece

II.
You believe in retail therapy and will be the first to admit you're fond of thinness; sometimes I think you're entirely too avantgarde for me, for this city, but you cope well, you always have. It's ironic that you started treating me the way I wanted only after I had finally stopped yearning for it and moved on after months of what-should-I-doing and destructive restlessness. There are dozens of pages in my moleskines dedicated to you spanning over at least 3 years. If I told you that, would you be surprised?


III.


IT IS A MYSTERY
I WANT A GOOD STORY
NOW I'M IN MISERY
I LIKE BIG HISTORIES
IT'S NOT A MYSTERY
IT IS A SELFISH STORY
BUT I'M IN MISERY
GIVE ME A PERFECT …
Shiina Ringo is still obsessed by dissatisfaction with the body but what I find interesting about Tsugou no ii karada (都合のいい身体 – A convenient body) is the fact that the song and the music video portray two different types of said dissatisfaction: the lyrics remind me of Ringo's childhood when she underwent several surgeries leaving huge scars on her shoulder blades, yet the video is clearly dealing with beauty standards imposed by "society". Although she's always been more on the rebellious side, Ringo has remained so typically Japanese in terms of eccentricity and even "kawaiiness" that it cracks me up sometimes and this video is the perfect example of it.


This is the third time a Shiina Ringo song came at exactly the right moment in my life; it's such a pure, fabulous blast of energy that I cannot not feel at least a little like that too when I listen to it.

さくらん ;; Two years ago when I entered a contest organized by the Japanese government (the prize was a scholarship including a 2-month stay in Japan, going to Japanese school + learning the language) and came into the final round, I was aurally ingesting Sakuran (ONKYO version) day and night as if winning the scholarship depended on how many times I listened to the song. I didn't win, but I met Japanese people who spoke flawless Slovenian and used stroke order with Latin letters, which I suppose was worth something as well.

そうれつ ;; If I had to choose one song that will always remind me of NYC, it would be this one. Souretsu was my background music to walking home from the Roosevelt Island subway station in evenings, looking over the river at skyscrapers and lights when there was nothing but me and that incredible sound you can only hear in NYC, the sound of things happening 24/7. When I was still there I thought quite a few times "I'm going to have crying fits once I'm back to Ljubljana and this pops up on shuffle", but luckily it turned out to be just an irrational fear.


IV.

I've been getting comments that make me see things I wrote/wore in a completely new light on this blog and I often think of them even when I'm away from the computer. I started blogging because I wanted to connect to more people so getting thoughtful, sincere responses means a lot to me and I would like to thank everyone who takes time to produce quality content (blogs, comments, photography ...) I'd also love you to let me know if there's anything else you'd like to see on this blog or ask me any questions you might have. I (probably) won't bite!


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Wanderlust & Linguistic Insanity

I usually try to avoid all black, but lately it hasn't been bothering me that much. // {clutch detail here}

12. IX. 2009
Thinking about whether a change of scenery would be good for me or Belgrade would keep reminding me of ______ (many things that make my stomach twist) too much. I'm a different person in Belgrade and I'm always a little afraid of it.

At 7 PM when it was already dark I felt an urge to go to the main station and hop on the first train whose destination was a major city. Munich was the first that came to mind as I wanted something distant where I don't have a lot of memories. I went to a concert at the Gasteig last March (Neue Philharmonie Westfalen, Elīna Garanča, Karel Mark Chichon) but before that I'd only been to the city twice for a few hours when I was still in primary school. So there's not much to think about except that bakery on Zweibrückenstrasse which is just too charming and made me think I could live in Munich/Germany one day although I really couldn't.


Sophie Marceau in Anthony Zimmer. "La poésie des départs, la poésie des salles d'attentes."
11. IX. 2009
I write notes even when I have nothing to say so it seems my current moleskine will be another one of those I'll never want to open again once I've finished them. Too much nonsense.

It freaks me out that my Slovenian is too influenced by Croatian so I often have to look up words when I write (if I think of the Croatian word first instead of Slovenian when I speak, I'll just say it and then translate in case the person I'm talking to doesn't understand). Doubting my skills in my first language makes me feel incredibly dumb, but at least I don't have such problems when I'm proofreading. Muss es sein? I had to leave the Facebook group "Yo amo code-switching!" because it simply isn't true any more.

10. IX. 2009
My cardinal sin is that I refuse to acknowledge anything as impossible.



u stvari ... "ma ko ti to baje, pa ne znaš šta ti je"





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Are you awake?

dress R Exclusive
My life is _________ (I can't even think of a proper adjective) right now.

Until I can write something of substance again, here's a (very) short film I did last December at New York Film Academy:

Meditation on Manhattan

Meditation on Manhattan from Eva Internazionale on Vimeo.

"PARIS AND LONDON, BABY, YOU CAN KEEP" :)







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New York City: A Tale of Nostalgia

skirt Karl Lagerfeld for H&M, top R Exclusive, shoes Prada This top is supposed to be worn with both shoulders covered, but I threw the draping over on one side because I'm chronically prone to tweaking everything.

NE VOLIM kad mi vikendom nestane materijala za čitanje, a ne mogu nabaviti novi jer se knjižare neće otvoriti do ponedjeljka … u gornjem sam katu pronašla dvije knjige na hrvatskom koje na kraju svejedno nisam pročitala jer već odavno ne mogu čitati bilo koju knjigu, kao što sam postala izbirljiva i kod filmova (hors de prix sam ugasila u 20. minuti). to valjda znači da se još uvijek ne mogu koncentrirati. ljubljana je podnošljiva čak u ružno jesensko vrijeme i prerani hlad sve dok mogu s nekim razgovarati.

I could probably write about New York City for the rest of my life even if I never went there again; I cannot decide whether letting the 2 and half months I spent there last year continue affecting me is good or bad because you always have to do something new (to prove yourself) and avoid "living in the past", but I keep returning to NYC in my mind so often that I've become certain I might have to move back at some point (for a while, not permanently) because I doubt after having lived there any "tourist experience" can ever be satisfying. A local tourist agency is advertising their December arrangement of 5 days in Manhattan which includes seeing Les contes d'Hoffmann at the Met (with what even without Villazón is essentially still a dream cast – Calleja, Netrebko, Garanča, Pape, Gubanova …) and whenever I pass by their window I cringe because I will not be there but then again, do I really want to be? New York winters are too cold and I would not be able to walk around the East Village (the neighborhood I know best as we shot most of our New York Film Academy masterpieces at Keiko's studio apartment on East 12^th and Ave A) all day or eat burrito bowls (with rice, chicken, pinto beans, cheese, lettuce and sour cream) from Chipotle sitting on a bench in the Union Square Park watching squirrels and pigeons - if I cannot do these things, flying over 6 time zones and 6000 kilometres makes no sense.

Jana na Lexington Ave. "Svetsko, a naše."

Nobody I know here went to NYC after I returned; if they did, I would give them my American cellphone so they could order Chinese to their hotel room because that's what everyone does in the movies and if you look at it closely, NYC itself is one big movie. I miss ordering General Tso's chicken from a small Astoria delivery where the girl who answers the phone barely speaks or understands English. I miss people preferring roommates who don't cook and kitchenettes instead of proper kitchens. I miss not having the washing machine in your apartment because it takes up too much space and using laundry rooms. I miss pharmacies that sell whatever you can think of at every corner (hello Duane Reade!). I miss giving and accepting compliments in public (it doesn't work in any other city). I miss being able to buy one third of an egg box (NYC is super friendly to one-person households). I miss people knowing how to move in a crowd without constantly bumping into others. I miss the F train. I miss cheap Japanese restaurants with great sushi. I miss everyone reading books on the subway and actually caring about what's going on in the world. I miss the eccentric sense of humor. I miss the Roosevelt Island deli (never found out where the owners are from) and the one on Times Square near Olive Garden. I miss people being proud of their city and not wanting to leave. I miss New York more than I've ever missed any city, yet it's not unbearable because I know I'll go back; I just have no idea when and what for.


by vickeh





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Pop TV-jeva Promenada

dress Mojca Makuc, shoes Tod's, bracelet Chanel

Print detail. Fashion things!

Včerajšnja Pop TV-jeva Promenada v Križankah je bila očarljiva; od ene najlepših ljubljanskih lokacij sem se sicer že navadila presežka v arhitekturi in (nočnem) vzdušju, a tokrat je najbolj izstopala izraba prostora - programski del se je odvil tam, kjer je na koncertih ponavadi publika, zabava pa je bila na odru. Iz odra se prizorišče sicer ne zdi tako veliko, je pa vtis najbrž čisto drugačen, ko je napolnjeno z nekaj tisoč ljudmi.

Moje aklimatiziranje ob jagodah in plastenki Eviana, v katero je bila zataknjena stilsko črna slamica, je prekinilo zagonetno SMS sporočilo od mame, ki je sugeriralo, da sem se v svojem večnamenskem outfitu (dopolnjenim z v zadnjem trenutku izbranima torbico in nakitom) pojavila na televiziji. Misleč da me zafrkava (kar je pri mojih starših prej pravilo kot izjema) sem pospravila mobitel in nemoteno nadaljevala z odštevanjem minut do začetka programa, nekaj časa v popolni samoti, saj me je ravno takrat zapustila moja prva sogovornica, ki je prišla že ob sedmih in se ji po več kot uri ni več dalo čakati.

Šele ko so mi ob prihodu domov družinski člani priobčili, da "sem se na vhodu z nekom pogovarjala in potem šla naprej", mi je končno postalo jasno, da ne gre za šalo, ampak je moj sprehod po rdeči preprogi dejansko posnela kamera Pop Ina. OMG! Ker se ne prenesem opazovati na videu (sploh če je nastal brez moje vednosti), si famoznega posnetka nisem ogledala, je pa nadvse ironično, da sem tekom večera vljudno zavračala fotografiranje (razen mene same zna všečne fotografije mojega dragocenega subjekta narediti samo moj brat), medtem ko je ena sama kamera že na začetku uničila vse šanse, da moja prisotnost na Promenadi ostane nezabeležena. Ovbe!

VRBNIK, CROATIA

A couple of days ago when we were still in Croatia we took a trip to Vrbnik, a small village located on the island of Krk that was once upon a time quite popular among local pirates. I hadn't been there for 4 years so I was curious to see if anything changed in the meantime, but it didn't; in these quaint, picturesque villages the course of life flows largely uninterrupted.


Vrbnik is full of houses with entrances completely blocked by plants (I suppose when there are water shortages in summer, seeing lots of green is a luxury); many of these houses have additional doors, but they are the height of a dwarf and I have no idea what their purpose (or lack thereof) is. Another thing that confuses me about Vrbnik is driving. It's nearly impossible to drive there because the streets are too narrow, often steep and whatever isn't asphalt is incredibly slippery, yet some people manage it because I've seen cars parked in the most unimaginable places. I would hate to be in a car there when it's raining though ...

We went to this gallery (Galerija Vrbnik - it has a counterpart in Zagreb on Tkalčićeva) that sells paintings by Mersad Berber, one of my favorite artists. It was lovely to see them in a "comfortable" and unfancy setting so unlike the Tate in London where I last saw his works before we came to Vrbnik. Regardless of how much I appreciate galleries with impressive collections because you can see a lot of great art in one place, they are often too sterile for the majority of what they have on display. Works like Berber's are most alive in places with more character and personal touch such as this tiny dark gallery or living/working spaces in which every item has been chosen with precision and spontaneity so as to create a harmony you won't find anywhere else.



A ponovo počinje kiša
Kao što već kišuje u listopadu na otocima
More od olova i nebo od borova
Udaljeni glasovi koji se miješaju
Glas majke, prijatelja, kćeri, ljubavnice, broda, brata
Na brzinu pokupljeno rublje pred kišu
I nestalo je svjetla s tom bjelinom
Još malo šetnje uz more i gotovo




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