Koska äiti kaksi tytärtä, olen jatkuvasti kertoi heille, että heidän futuurit ovat rajattomat ja että ne olivat vahvoja, luovia, ja hämmästyttävä nuoria naisia. Löin että rumpu niin kauan ja kovaa, että mielestäni he saivat viestin, koska ne ovat nyt nuoria aikuisia ja jättää kotini aloittaa omaa elämäänsä. Valitettavasti en aina "kävellä puhua", koska kuva pidin itsestäni oli liian usein muotoutunut pelkoni mitä muut ajattelun (tai voisi luulla) minua. Se on edelleen taistelu voittaa koettu tuomioista, että muut voivat tehdä minusta, mutta olen oppinut, että olen vastuussa onneni ja olen ainoa henkilö, joka voi rajoittaa unelmiani ja mitä lopulta saavuttaa.
Kun lähdin ajaa ensimmäinen 5K, olen varma kukaan ajatellut kahdesti siitä. Ei grand saavutus on varma. Kun juoksin ensimmäinen puolimaraton, se luultavasti sai jonkin verran huomiota, mutta naysayers todennäköisesti esitettyä, että olin saavuttanut rajat kykyni. Kun minusta tuli marathoner, olisin valmis lyömään vetoa kriitikot ylenpalttisesti niiden tuomioita että olin "liian hidas" tai "tuhlaa aikaani" - tai hyvin mahdollisesti - mitä tahansa määrää vähemmän kohtelias huomautuksia. Kuitenkin, kun aloin käynnissä ultra maratonia ja jopa päättynyt ensimmäinen 100 Miler, minulla ei ole epäilystäkään siitä, että kielet heilutti ja epäuskoinen kysyttiin, "Kuka hän luulee on ?!"
En ole tyyppinen henkilö, joka haluaa herättää huomiota - varsinkin minkäänlaista kielteistä huomiota. Suoraan sanottuna, kertoo minun käynnissä tarinoita on epämukavaa löin vielä huoli miten olen koettu. Olen kuitenkin valmis ottamaan riskin tulla väärin ja kritiikkiä siitä, että leuhka jos se saavuttaa edes yksi nainen, joka haluaa tehdä positiivisen muutoksen elämässään seurauksena.
Tässä on yksinkertainen totuus: Rakastan käynnissä ja motivoida muita naisia juosta. On palkitsevaa nähdä intohimo syttynyt. Mutta se ei ole vain käynnissä. Kyse voittaa pelkosi, jolloin itse uskot pystyvät joitakin unelma isompi kuin unelmoit tänään, ja ei pelkää epäonnistua niin monta kertaa kuin on tarpeen toteuttaa unelmasi. Syy tunnen tarvetta jakaa tarinani on todistaa, että jos minä saavuttaa enemmän kuin useimmat ihmiset pidätte minua kykenee saamaan aikaan, niin voit myös.
Levittää sanaa on ollut uskomattoman palkitsevaa. Ystäväni kertoi minulle, että hän innostui mennä takaisin kouluun opiskellakseen että hän oli laittaa pois. Toinen ystäväni kertoi minulle, että hän haastoi ryhmä naisia hänen naapurustossa valita tavoite, joka parantaisi ja rikastuttaa elämäänsä tai toisten elämään. Niistä on tullut "vastuullisuutta ystävät" auttamalla toisiaan oleskelua keskittynyt ja motivoitunut. On tarinoita, jotka ehdottomasti tehdä sydämeni laulaa ja haluaisin tietää, että minun tarinat ovat arvoinen ja auttaa muita löytämään kätketyt sisäinen vahvuutensa.
Joten olin teitä vastaamaan tähän yksinkertaiseen kysymykseen: "Kuka sinä luulet olevasi?"
Linda Banks on julkaistu tekijän ja omistajan Run Inspired Designs, Inc. - linja puettavat Inspiration koruja motivoida ja innostaa naisia. Ms Pankit pyrkii valtuuttaa naiset kehittää rohkeutta jatkaa suuruutta epäröimättä.
6 March is Mothering Sunday – at least in the United Kingdom – and 8 March marks International Women’s Day, both falling slap-bang in the middle of the autumn/winter 2016 Paris womenswear season. Some will see this as an anomaly: the fashion industry is frequently chided for its attitudes towards femininity and its perceived exploitation of female insecurity, as is evident from the ever-raging debates about body ideals.
Isn’t fashion about caging women, literally and figuratively? No. It can be about setting them free, empowering them. That was the overriding message of Rei Kawakubo’s Comme des Garçons show. Of an undeniably, unequivocally, extremely pink, strength. Kawakubo presented outfits composed of ruffles and frills, gargantuan rosebuds, piled-up boned panniers and exaggerated flounces. Pink dominated, alongside rococo floral prints and foliate brocades. A few of the dresses – and I use the term loosely – were articulated like plate armour around the body. The overriding mood was of the 18th century, of Fragonard and Boucher, a whiff of Versailles, the grandeur compressed on to the body of woman in a construction of fabric.
What does it all mean? To begin with, it contradicted entirely the label attached to these garments: Comme des Garçons. This was about woman absolute and all-powerful, where the perceived traps and trappings of an archetypal femaleness – heavy, wide pannier skirts, boned stays, flowers and ruffles – became a kind of protection against the world. Totemic, traditionally, of fragility, they became something tougher – a defence, not an aggression.
That said, this wasn’t a sinister Kawakubo offering: there was a lightness of mood – “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” played – if not of garment. The latter is a simple fact, given the masses of fabric forming Kawakubo’s grand shapes. Those made me think of woman in control, occupying a space, emphasising her presence and physicality through the clothing on her back. It’s a power play afforded to women that men have never quite been able to match.
These Comme des Garçons clothes were embedded in history, in a manner quite unusual in Rei Kawakubo’s work. The 18th century, however, was packed with powerful women, and they clustered around the courts of France. Louis XIV didn’t invent the notion of the maîtresse-en-titre – the chief mistress of the French king. But his mistresses were afforded more political power than any before – a notion taken to its height by his successor, Louis XV, and Madame de Pompadour.
Vicky
Photo: brautkleider schweiz
Her influence also led to her personal style shaping the aesthetic movement we call rococo, crafting an entire female universe. Here, it was compressed into 17 exceptional outfits, a treatise on the absolute power of absolute femininity.
Vivienne Westwood’s show habitually butts against Kawakubo’s, showing just an hour before. Westwood’s work also explores hyper-femininity, empowerment through clothing, and in her way she has shifted fashion as significantly as Kawakubo. The difference? Kawakubo does so with a straight face and a degree of abstraction that ensure quiet contemplation, whereas Westwood’s literalism has occasionally fallen into farce. The dynamic this season, however, was different. Westwood’s label had been rechristened Andreas Kronthaler for Vivienne Westwood, a reflection of the impact her husband and design partner of some 27 years has had on her aesthetic.
It also changed the entire tone of Westwood’s presentation: the show notes (always a soap box eagerly mounted by Westwood) were written in his voice, not hers. Westwood herself was at a distinct remove. Kronthaler was looking at Bruegel when designing the collection, said he. Westwood was reading Rabelais.
Rabelaisian is a word easily applied to Westwood’s clothes. It’s defined as marked by gross, robust humour and extravagance of caricature. There’s an argument that Westwood’s work has fallen into a kind of caricature at the hands of Kronthaler – it’s frequently cited that Westwood’s unique aesthetic came as a result of her being a woman, sporting her own clothes (she wears no other designer) and reacting to their rapport with her body. Kronthaler had a bunch of men in this show, wearing garments we would traditionally define as feminine (a draped evening gown, a high-heeled shoe). Perhaps he is taking that tactile mantle from Westwood, also?
Given the duality of Westwood and Kronthaler’s creative process over the past two decades, this felt less like a passing of the torch and more a handing over of the reins. Westwood was still along for the ride, and her name is still on the label. Hence, perhaps she still has a hand in the clothes, which this season weren’t especially different but were nonetheless handsome, in a palette of Bruegel burgundies and peat-bog browns. Westwood took a bow with Kronthaler, a presence here as in the aesthetic values. Nevertheless, it felt as though one of fashion’s grande dames had been dethroned.
Succession is something fashion is increasingly addressing. Again, it’s very 18th century – the various French kings were obsessed with their dauphins, and so it is in fashion. You want someone in line to inherit your empire.
In many cases, it’s pressing: Dior and Lanvin are both without creative directors; rumour-mongers insist that Saint Laurent is ready to join, with the departure of Hedi Slimane. Kawakubo and Westwood are both clever in that they have nurtured a new generation of talent to succeed them. Perhaps Westwood would rather you didn’t talk about her husband in that way, but certainly her scaling-back her day-to-day design role isn’t unforeseen. Westwood has advertised Kronthaler’s design influence in her collections, and in turn promoted his talent, since the early Nineties. Kawakubo’s approach is different: to establish subsidiary labels under the umbrella of Comme des Garçons, most recently the Noir line by Kei Ninomiya, and the menswear designer Gosha Rubchinskiy. Call them a school, if you will. Westwood was a teacher, too. It implies the authoritarian influence, and a guiding hand.
One of the first for Comme des Garçons was Junya Watanabe, founded in 1993. His autumn/winter 2016 show wasn’t a million miles from Kawakubo’s: both explored the notion of fabric constructions on female bodies, abstraction and exploration of decidedly three-dimensional shapes (the side-views of these clothes are frequently far more arresting than the front-on). But Watanabe’s focus is, perhaps, stricter, and simpler.
This time his theme was “hyper construction dress” – his words, but they could be mine, as they are the perfect description of garments engineered from the kind of hi-tech, highly synthetic fabric normally used to upholster car interiors. In a handful of industrial colours – acidic, fluorescent pink, dull red, lots of black and battleship grey – it was cut into geometric shapes to unfold about the body, clothing studiously and fascinatingly structured with mathematical precision.
There wasn’t much that was corporeal, or instinctive, or warm, honestly. This was a cold, scientific fashion show that was, nevertheless, extraordinary, in the way a complex mathematical equation chalked out on a board can fascinate. You weren’t encouraged to unravel these mind-boggling, complex clothes. But they were interesting enough to encourage you to buy. If just to look at, rather than wear.
Read more at: vickydressy günstige abendkleider
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Is there a seismic shift happening in fashion? Or is it all a storm in a teacup? There's something that feels unstable and mid-flux right now, designers uncertain as to what they should offer, what consumers may want. How is this uncertainty reflected on the catwalks? By a disparate offering, by logos and names changing and shifting, and by collections composed largely of the small stuff: handbags, shoes. Fragments of a whole.
That isn't what London is known for. London is about the big gesture, the grand scheme. But the autumn/winter 2016 collections feel bitty, composed of pieces to be pulled apart and individually digested rather than hearty, meaty fashion statements. JW Anderson described his looks as “snapshots”, saying that he wanted observers just to get a “sense” of the clothing – rather than something material to clutch onto. He didn't say the latter, but I felt it was implied. And you grabbed at bits of this show – at shirt-dresses bound with leather, at studded bags and glittering shoes, with a magpie sense of lust. The head-to-toe looks felt, if not redundant, then more of a backdrop to single pieces that excited. You didn't want to become this woman, but you wanted a bit of her.
Anderson is one of those creatives bucking against the existing system: his Loewe collections are presented in a Paris already plastered with advertising images for collections yet to be shown. The consuming public see it before the industry insiders – we only arrive in the city after they've been plastering billboards for about a week.
There's a kind of hollow desire in that: you can see, but you can't buy. Which is what lots of people are seeking to challenge. Burberry is the ringleader, collapsing well-defined categories together with alarming abandon – Christopher Bailey rolled CEO into his job as chief creative officer (that means designer, in corporate parlance) in May last year; this year, he lumped together the disparate, differently priced strata of the Burberry empire (labelled Brit, London and Prorsum), and just called them Burberry, straightforward and simple. As of September, he won't be talking in seasons any more, but just delivering two shows of clothes each year. The industry is abuzz: is it the end of fashion, or its next incarnation, a newer, better model?
I'm on the fence – because I like to think all this bullish corporate jargon of profit margins, sell-through and in-store drop shouldn't affect the creative side. It does, of course. But can't they be divorced, at least when it comes to the direction propositions of a catwalk show? It's impossible to subjugate the commercial to the creative – even Paris haute couture, those hand-made clothes with six-figure price-tags and barely 1,000 customers worldwide, feels the necessity to crow its financial viability today. However, the creative is easily subsumed by the demands of commerce. And that's the worry if designers start to fiddle about with the order of seasons and focus on delivering more clothes faster, rather than making them better. Because ultimately, better clothes are what will secure a designer's future, big or small.
Burberry may be rebranded, but Bailey isn't yet under the yoke of his own financial creation. Creatively, his autumn/winter 2016 collection was satisfying, in a way his previous offerings have missed. It was filled, like Anderson's with fragments of clothing you'd like to buy: a good coat, a studded, patchworked python shoe, a metallic dress. It's odd that Burberry has lopped the term “Prorsum” off its label. That's Latin for “forwards”, which is what their approach is. Like Anderson, Bailey is thinking not of the poetry of clothes, but of the product. He's not selling a dream, he's selling a dress. It's indicative of a new pragmatism, of head over heart. It slightly quashes the romance of the industry. But it shifts stock.
The flip-side? A clutch of collections with disparate but strong and original voices, vocal in their support of an old-fashioned way of working. Sarah Burton's tone at Alexander McQueen always seems plaintive, a hold-out against the might of a luxury behemoth (Kering, the owners of the label). This season, Burton's pregnancy shifted her show from Paris to London, for practical purposes only, rather than any perceived shift in inspiration or focus. And there was no overwrought nationalism, just a dreamy meander of over-the-top, out-of-left-field eveningwear that relates to nothing in particular, bar her own personal predilections for decoration and after-dark embellishment. It was, perhaps, a little restricted – no clothes for before five, no price-tags below several grand. But it was lovely enough, in its better parts, to make you dream of a life that would necessitate clothes like those. Maybe that'll be geared up to hawking a handbag or two. However, it wasn't the sole aim.
Models clutched handbags at Christopher Kane. They also wore plastic sheeting wrapped about their heads and trod out in clothes that resembled cardboard boxes and dishrags – lost and found, he called it, not meaning left luggage at a train station but another of those magpie eyes. It made you wonder if Kane had perhaps lost it, a little: it's his tenth anniversary and you remember collections that challenged notions of shape and taste, reconfiguring contemporary fashion with neon elastic or crushed velvets. This felt more like tinkering with surfaces – with blurry floral prints, furs, dresses dripping in feathers or jangling with gewgaws. However, by the end, he had found it. If this collection wasn't one of Kane's previously signature, singular, love-it-or-hate-it propositions, it was informed by a similar idea of taking the unloved and overlooked and elevating them to luxury, in turn challenging conventions the industry is cleaving to ever more conservatively.
Erdem Moralioglu's collection was similarly minded: set amongst a dusty cinematic mise en scène, snippets of Hitchcock's Rebecca on the soundtrack, remembrance of frocks past. The past frocks, however, were hazy memories rather than the direct references quoted by others, delicate fil coupé slips, capelets and bias gowns weighted down with sequins, panne velvet threaded with ribbon in faded dressing-up box shades of baby-blue, verdigris and mildew. They were old-fashioned – in a good way, not fustily. Yet they still worked, in abstraction. It would be easy to imagine a woman wearing them, wanting them, looking good. The litmus test, of both commerce and creativity. They made you sigh; they'll maybe make you buy.
Read more at: Vickydressy abendkleider online
