I’m a child of the Eighties, I’m not proud of it but there
we are. The ‘Art-man’ assures me it was a very good decade for music but I’m
not so sure. Maybe it’s an amniotic thing, maybe the birth pangs of electric
pop were keenly felt whilst I was still in the womb for me to think, enough
now. No, I begin and end with Billie Holiday and I follow in my Dad’s size
nines in the belief that you can only really get to know an artist by remaining
loyal. His poison is one, Robert Dylan (the early years).
However, I do seem to be experiencing a bit of an eighties
revival, well 1988-89 to be precise. On
a trip to London I saw and was smitten with a ‘Moon collection’ bag from that
great fashion concept that was ‘Benetton.’ I loved it on sight, its bold
primary colours were/are framed by black piping and I was treated to it by my
parents as a holiday treat.
This Mondrian inspired beauty has lasted in its
appeal and look and is now my everyday bag for work. The sapphire blue, apple
green and scarlet are glorious first thing in the morning and I do feel like an
art thief nonchalantly walking with a painting under my arm. However, anything
that makes me think of Peter O’Toole at ten to eight is ok in my book….what a
cool cat.
Weekend days will be studio spent and a conspiratorial
‘wedding/Chanel’ lunch with my beloved Mum on Sunday x
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