Fashion v Sport

The Thoughtful Dresser thoughtfully invited me to accompany her to the V&A last night. For the launch party of the new exhibition Fashion v Sport.

We had both agreed, over a civilised drink beforehand, that sport was not our forte, and hence not an area of the highest  interest when it comes to clothing. But the catalogue to the exhibition maintains that

'sports styles are adapted to make fashion statements , both on the high street and through high fashion'. 

To be honest the clothes on display didn't engage me. But then I am of a certain age. Some examples of what I would call art school experimentation seemed  designed to provoke a John Macenroesque response (' you cannot be serious'). Then there was the opportunity to exclaim ' Oh look, some more retro Nike high-tops'. And , to be honest, I find it difficult to believe that people are still trotting out Keith Haring as being a stylish or contemporary design motif.

They did have Paul Smith's bicycle, but strangely not the range of cycle clothes that he brought out last year.

Of course the venue was captivating as ever ( as someone once said, 'the best place to lose yourself in London' ). The fizz was in plentiful supply, and the attendant throng were well decked out ( with not much sports influence in evidence I am pleased to say).

Truth to tell, I do actually own some sportswear. Because that's the appropriate thing to wear to the gym ( not for me the faded old t-shirt and distressed baggy shorts look). I was in Lanzarote earlier this year and made the mistake of taking one of my gym shirts, dark blue micro-fibre. The one day I chose to wear it my dapper host Bill looked at me somewhat askance and enquired ' Harry, is that synthetic by any chance?

Guest post: On Beauty

My (real life) friend the poet George Szirtes, has responded to my post on Misogyny:

I wrote three posts at my own place in response to the misogyny blog by Linda, that ended with a comment by a certain Stephanie who suggested men die first because they're stupid. My contribution was: fine, I am quite happy to die first.

I am not altogether stupid. I am a writer and that gives me certain advantages. But I want to discard the advantages here. I'd like to speak, if such a thing is possible, for Mr Normal, Mr Nothing Special. I want leave the gender wars out of this for now, as far as that is possible.

Beauty is something most people seek, and most men seek it, first and foremost, in women. There are many other qualities they seek but beauty is there somewhere at the core of it. And beauty is far from simple: it is not merely the ruddy glow of health or voluptuousness (what Eliot called 'pneumatic bliss'). It is not merely fleshly, though it is that too. Nor is it proportions drawn up according to a secret formula. What I said in my post was that it was "not to be owned by either the beholder or the object. And partly, because it cannot be owned like property, because it remains an elsewhere and, notionally, eternal, it is something that has always to be sought." It is in that way a spiritual yearning. We are not elsewhere and eternal. We are here and fugitive. That sense of life as something fugitive may go a little way to explaining why women's fashions change so frequently, why last year's fashion is ridiculous and no longer beautiful. Clothes are part of the beautiful, as are changes in clothes.

Next to the essential though, the momentary always looks a bit ridiculous, particularly when it is actually a product of labour. It takes considerable time. Humour is incongruity. And while, no doubt, the attitude Linda's blog refers to is part of the package, it is neither entirely a patriarchal plot nor gross stupidity. It is part of the tragic ludicrousness of life. Men and women often appear slightly ludicrous to each other. And women are far from reticent or decorous about what is ludicrous in men. In fact they are furiously critical – which is something I have never experienced among men regarding women. But we can be adult about this, can't we? Shall we, we thoughtful ones, try?

The £200 plastic shoes

But they are not Crocs, they are designed by architect Zaha Hadid and are ecological and only available from Dover Street Market in Mayfair and will be launched at Fashion Week. They come in eight colours including silver.

Too many questions arise, such as how the sweaty-feet question is dealt with (and will your tights slip around inside them?) Or am I being a philistine? At least they have a good heel for walking.