Fashion Cornucopia, or The Atrocities of Abundance

Can there be too much fashion? I do think so…

By Julia Shuvalova

(First published at Exzibit.net on 06 July 2005)

So, this is who I am – a young female journalist and writer, with a sophisticated taste, who, as any other woman, sometimes has this burning desire to buy something new – a skirt, shoes or a bag. If not any of these, then some baubles, at least. I don’t always find what I want, but as I don’t suffer from the lack of garments, I don’t bother. There is a pair of shoes that I’ve been wearing since high school, and that was almost ten years ago, so they are now a fine vintage and are regularly complimented.

However, every now and then when I walk into a shop and spend some time there strolling past rails of identical printed dresses, I can’t help wondering how hypocritical designers and labels are. They all profess individual taste and style, yet no-one – indeed, no single brand – lives up to its own stipulations. Why so?

I don’t know the answer, but the fact is that fashion has actually severely restricted our opportunities to create a unique persona. It’s good to think, of course, that a gipsy skirt you’re wearing is made by Gaultier or Cavalli, as opposed to a similar creation by a high-street label. Let’s face it, though: you would rather prefer to be the only person who drifts above the hot-burning road on a summer afternoon in this majestic gipsy skirt, and sandals with the tinkling of bracelets on your wrists. Alas, you are not the only vessel in this sea of floating fabrics, white, green, brown, black, blue… You are but a part of this summer regatta, and it will take a lot to make yourself fashionable and memorable all at once.

Or jeans… My Lord, even Liz Hurley broke silence: she said she didn’t like the low-cuts. You may think, what’s her business? She is the only woman on a planet who could wear a dress that was held together by a fair word and safety pins and looked glamorous, not trashy. Well, personally I’m quite happy she passed her opinion, as now I know that she is as hurt as I am every time she sees those atrocious looks that low-cut jeans help to create on some women. In part, I believe, they follow fashion, but do they actually have a choice?

A few years ago designers all as one began to make jeans with decorations, which usually fell beyond any sense of measure. Nowadays almost all jeans out there are low-cut. Not only jeans, in fact, but most of the trousers and skirts. Hence our eyes are exposed not just to the hanging flesh, but also to some disastrous examples of underwear. And notice this – I don’t mention any hygienic factors that rise from this full exposure. Personally, I’m too fastidious when it comes to wearing something low-cut, especially when I face the prospect of sitting on a bus seat where someone has rested their dusty trainers.

Perhaps, this complete dominance of fashion in our lives can be explained by the fact that we don’t have much time to spend on walking in and out of the shops, thinking precisely what suits us and our purse. Oh, yes, I forgot to mention just how much money is spent on creating an image, only durable for a season or two. We seem to prefer to grab a look, rather than to make a statement via a personal style. No, we don’t differ in that from our grandmothers who probably shaped their eyebrows a-la Greta Garbo or applied tonnes of mascara to look like Marlene Dietrich. Those ladies had very refined looks, which are still in demand, like the beauty and sex appeal of Marilyn Monroe and Doris Day, according to the recent Muller poll. The truth is, they were absolutely unique, which unfortunately isn’t so about very many of today’s icons.

What to do? Oh, I am still under the impression of Boris Bekker at Wimbledon: totally relaxed and elegant in that blue suit, with a white shirt and a pink tie, he said about Roddick: ‘He’s got to relax and enjoy his own game’. Taking the phrase out of the context, this is exactly what I have always been doing, and this is why I happened to wear chunky sweaters and endless scarves long before these came into fashion. And exactly at this time, three years ago, I was completely mad, searching everywhere for huge sunglasses, while everyone was wearing tiny ones. Believe it or not, I found the red pair in Grasmere, which suited perfectly my red shoes. Yet it took designers another year or two to introduce the 1970s-style glasses that used to make females look like the UFO’s visitors.

Of course, I don’t expect you to follow my high-heels and ignore fashion and go after your whims. Instead, I would hope the brands would ease their rather aggressive campaigns and clothes supply. It’s no fun to be the best-selling brand just because your frocks are cheap, as it usually means they are of a poorer quality. Women’s individuality is never in the price they pay for their garments. It’s in the equilibrium of personality and style, which reflect and influence one another. And since everyone recognises it, why not put this cornucopia of identical frocks and baubles aside and help women create their own unique personas, by limiting the offer? It may sound too revolutionary, but won’t it be fun?

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe

An article on the first instalment of a screen adaptation of C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia for The Review Newsletter (January 2006)

By Julia Shuvalova

(Published in The Review Newsletter in January 2006, and at Exzibit.net on 05 February 2006)

 

I have to be honest: I could not think that a fairy-tale movie may touch me so much. I used to love Czechoslovakian fairy-tale films, and I remember once taking up a fashion of reading Astrid Lindgren’s books for several summers in a row. Needless to say, I adored Andersen, Perrault, the Grimm brothers, and many other tale writers. But The Chronicles of Narnia somehow evaded me, even though the book was around. I did not read it well until last year, when I was on a placement with Songs of Praise and spent four weeks researching for the programme dedicated to the Narnia film. It was then that I had to read The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe. And even if I may not quite have become the book’s fan, it reminded me of that wonderful magical confusion I had in my head when I was a child.

What sort of confusion was it? At the beginning, I was reading European fairy-tales, as well as numerous folk tales. Then, when I was seven, my parents presented me with a book, pompously called The Myths and Legends of Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome. These captivated me for several years, so much so that I was quoting passages from Ovid’s myths by heart. Antique mythology surged interest in world’s religions, as well as in medieval literature. The enchanted world I was living in absorbed all the characters and places, so that the Olympus was situated only a stone-throw away from where the seven dwarfs inhabited; both, of course, were next door from me. Becoming an historian only furthered the understanding of this eclectic quality of European, and indeed world’s, culture, where folk tales, mythology and religion co-existed and borrowed from one another.

The reason why I narrated my childhood experience in reading is simple – although not entirely, it probably matches the one C. S. Lewis had had, which he subsequently reconstructed in The Chronicles of Narnia. As we know from his biographies, he grew up on fairy-tales, ancient myths, and Christianity, which were later coupled with Northern mythology and medieval symbolism. As some critics have correctly pointed out, when Lewis decided to write tales for children he in fact decided to relive his own childhood experience in constructing the world of his own. The building material would have come from his wide-ranging reading. When the world of Narnia finally materialised in Lewis’s imagination, it was eclectic: there lived fauns and centaurs (Antique mythology) and talking beasts (folk tales); there were heroic battles, in which good and evil clashed (epic genre); and – at least in the LWW – there was the White Witch, so unmistakably resembling of the Snow Queen (Andersen).

Alas, Lewis’s prolificacy in discussing in print ethical problems dubbed him a “Christian” writer, which image is widely, if not moronically, supported by many people. The trouble, however, is that Lewis was an exceptionally ambiguous character. As a brilliant article in The Week Review in The Sunday Times illustrated, many of Lewis’s moralisations not only contradicted his own life, they probably presented Lewis’s attempts to reach some kind of moral judgement of himself. From the examples at hand one can deduce that if there was any quality that Lewis seriously resented, it was vanity. But it was neither sinful living (Lewis lived “in sin” twice in his life, although he finally did marry Joy Gresham), nor self-pleasure (in which Lewis confessed in his letters), nor even homosexuality (despite the evidences of Lewis’s resentment to it, one of his life-long friends was homosexual).

Nonetheless, the image of Lewis as the intrepid defender of Christian faith persists and more or less successfully ruined the way people think about The Chronicles of Narnia. In a way, it also shows how narrow is the reading and religious experience of those who prefer to think of the seven books as a kind of literary gateway to the Bible and Christianity. The fact is that many children do NOT pick up on Christian parallels, unless these are specifically pointed out. The attempts to boil the whole epic down to several biblical principles, let alone scattered passages from the Bible, impoverish as books, as Lewis’s vision of his fairy-tale land.

This common perception of The Chronicles of Narnia was potentially a trap for the Walt Disney Studios and the Walden Group when they embarked on the hard journey of putting the LWW to screen. Thankfully, they did not overdo it, and, if I have to describe to you my impressions, the film made me relive my childhood glee and empathy with a fairytale. Andrew Adamson’s experience in blending different enchanted worlds together in Shrek certainly added to the overall “dechristianised” adaptation. Art direction, of which I am going to speak below, is outstanding, and the magnificent score by Harry Gregson-Williams finishes off the very promising opening to the Narnia film saga.

Acting needs to be mentioned separately altogether. The four leads fulfil their task for the most part brilliantly, especially when they are engaged in action scenes. Together, the leading actors help to achieve and to maintain the playful element which is crucial for entire story and which would not have made Narnia possible in the first place. It is important to remember that the whole discovery of the world inside the wardrobe began with the Pevensie children playing hide-and-seek. This is an inverted reconstruction of how a child normally encounters and discovers the world – through a game, in which everything and everyone is ascribed a specific role. The only hope now for all four is that they indeed become more than just “children who were in the Narnia movie”, like most of their predecessors from the BBC series.

The voiceovers brilliantly convey the characters’ spirit, especially the energetic and caring Mrs Beaver (Dawn French) and the wise and merciful Aslan (Liam Neeson). Jim Broadbent (Professor) and James McAvoy (Mr Tumnus) are also impressive. Only Tilda Swinton first appears as a somewhat strange choice for the White Witch. Having seen so many screen portrayals of these ice-cold, detached, inhumane female rulers, one may feel that actresses like Helen Mirren or Glenn Close would be better. Cate Blanchett is not considered because after Galadriel this would probably be too radical a metamorphosis. But the more I think about Swinton as the White Witch the more I have to admit that, had my imagination not been tarnished by the image of Elizabeth I, I would probably have conceived of the White Witch as Swinton, from the start.

Finally, art direction and cinematography, for all the faults with computer graphics, is a really fascinating achievement. It is through the images that not only Narnia comes to life, but also the whole of Lewis’s experience in envisaging his magical land. I already described the eclectics of this land, but the filmmakers took it even further. As a medievalist myself, I cannot find enough words to praise the reconstruction of Aslan’s camp, which from the aerial view looks exactly like a page from an illuminated manuscript. Why is this important? – Because all his life Lewis was an ardent student of medieval and Renaissance literature, whose history he long taught at Oxbridge. And when you recall the knightly imagery of the LWW, you will understand that it would not have been there without Lewis’s scholarly cherishing of the noble ideals and symbolism of medieval literary tradition.

Needless to say, for me The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe was a enthralling experience. And I know I did not write anything about Christian imagery and ideas, but these are not important, and the final phrases of this review should explain, why. First, whatever Jesus we may want to see in the image of the Lion, Lewis called him Aslan, which is a Turkish (i.e. Muslim) name. It is hard to imagine that Lewis did not know what he was doing, hence perhaps one of the main lessons he wanted his readers to carry away with them is that of tolerance. And, secondly, if we think of the Stone Table as the Cross, then what did Lewis want to tell us, when he had it cracked? That Aslan saved us from our sins? Or maybe that Christianity is only a part, and not the whole, of the story?

The Olympics 2012: A Question of Sport

Following the publications in the European press, the article looks at the English and French bids, and at why London has become the host city.

By Julia Shuvalova

(First published at Exzibit.net on 07 July 2005)

 

Ever since 1066 England and France have been connected firmly by either cultural or political ties, and given this fact it is easy to see why there is still so much to debate. Be that politics, or sports, or arts, the Lion is always eagerly up against fleur-de-lis, or vice versa.

Centuries ago, during the Hundred Years, this rivalry was conducted through creating an image of an enemy. The French, of course, considered themselves more refined, while the English saw in their mirrors a reflection of sheer sophistication. The English said the French were cowards; the French said the English were drunkards. The discussion did not evolve around men only, it also included women. The English thought French women were ugly and deceitful; the French thought English women were deceitful and ugly. On the intimate matters the French wrote that because of their eternally drunk husbands, the English ladies have to please themselves, unless they wanted to wait till the second kingdom for their men to do anything. In response, the English author explained, why Joan of Arc was a virgin: she was so hideous, he wrote, that no man wanted to lie with her.

Five centuries after France beat England the two nations were again competing against each other in the race to host the Olympic Games in 2012. Like his predecessors, Chirac didn’t spare England of angry comments on their food. He went as far as to remind everyone that it was the British who imported ‘mad cow disease’ in Europe. And, truly, I wonder what he will be thinking in the forthcoming few days at the Gleneagles, where he will be eating British or at least British-cooked food. Most probably, he will be biting his tongue, but not because the food is atrocious. It will rather be a post-factum action that he should have performed at the time when the comments of English food were leaving his lips.

This time, thanks to the Olympic Committee, England responded in the best way one could only imagine. A comment on BBC’s Have Your Say read: ‘The face of Jacques Chirac will now be like the snails he eats’. And it’s not the first time in this year, unfortunately, that Monsieur Chirac is being gravely disappointed. First there was a parliamentary crisis, then the EU vote was lost despite all attempts to raise the ‘yes’ bid, and now the Olympics will be held in London, even though Paris was far better prepared in almost everything. Most of its infrastructure would only be improved, whereas the Olympic village, provided it was to be built, would subsequently become a new city quarter, thus leading to Paris’s expansion.

Unlike Chirac, Tony Blair’s 2005 has so far been lucky. He managed to stand up against all critique in a fierce electoral campaign in spring. His reputation has been tarnished by Iraqi war, education and health care problems, crime and tax rise, but whether with the help of Chancellor Brown or without it, Blair got the historic third term for Labour. And now he’s sealed his fortune with a historic battle in the Olympic bid, by winning at 54 votes against 50 in the closest ever race. He is the chief of the European Union, and keeps his cards close to his chest, like a true Grey Cardinal. And now he is also hosting the G8 summit, hoping to persuade the other seven richest countries to revise their African policy. And he backed Geldof’s initiative in calling in for music stars to press on the politicians. He had all the reasons to punch a fist in the air – it’s not the time to think of the political etiquette.

Of course, not everyone is happy. I spoke to Mancunians who were almost praying for Paris to win, because of London’s arrogant attitude to Manchester’s own Olympic bid. Even Londoners are concerned that the money which London needs to perform at the best level as the Olympic host will be extracted from their pockets. You may say it is pretty evident, but then in spring Tony Blair promised no tax rise, so now it seems to be the first promise that is severely and openly broken. The pressure on London is as bigger as the city has not hosted the Olympic Games since 1948. On the other hand, Paris has last been an Olympic capital in 1924.

So, while the Londoners cheered, what did the Parisians do? The video coverage on LeMonde.fr showed Parisians assembling at the ground near the Hotel de Ville to watch the announcement of the bid winner. As Moscow, New York and Madrid were being eliminated, anticipation intensified with every passing second. But as the name ‘London’ has left the lips of Jacques Rogge, a loud groan of disappointment and disbelief covered the ground. A little girl who was crying helplessly may remember this day all her life, so upset she was. London’s victory was a huge loss for Marseillais, who came to Paris all the way from his native city by an early morning train. A young lad with a Paris 2012 sticker on his forehead looked devastated. The ground in the centre of Paris, so full with people, emptied within minutes, and there has been no reaction at all, except for shatter and a total sense of devastation.

No-one on the French side can explain what happened. Indeed, throughout the race up until the announcement Paris was the favourite, having almost all major sport venues at hand. The video was compelling, made in the best traditions of the French cinema, somewhat nostalgic, very classy, with a little hint of miraculous grace of Amelie. Not only did high officials appear in the film backing up the Parisian bid, but also some stars, like the actor Jean-Paul Belmondo and the rock-singer Johnny Halliday. The entire bid, according to the TV presenter Michel Drucker, was telling ‘a love story between France and the Olympic Games’. However, the Olympic “Shrew” happened to be untameable. As Thierry Rey, former Olympic judo champion put it, following the loss of the bid: ‘We don’t understand… what more could we have done? I wonder if sometimes people don’t want us?’ [Reuters].

And that is a rather rhetoric question. Do people want France, and who actually speaks for them? The French may well organise furious demonstrations outside the houses of Juan Antonio Samaranch and Jacques Rogge, a la the G8 protesters, which of course will change nothing. As it happens, the decisions are made by those to whom power is delegated, and in this case it is the Olympic Committee, who knows better which city can be the best host.

Is London really the best host? Time will show, as the British capital first needs to deliver all its promises. However, as the Mayor of Paris Bertrand Delanoe said, the French ‘don’t have the same culture of lobbying, as the Anglo-Saxons’ (Le Monde, July 6^th 2005). Instead of promoting the infrastructure and facilities of the city, Lord Coe’s delegation turned to the Olympic ideals and principles of business. Paris did the same, but it was too eloquent on the occasion.

The key words of Paris’s presentation were ‘frankness, openness, humility and energy’. And they did address children, starting with the opening song by Charles Trenet about a man who recalls himself being a little boy in Paris. He adores the place, he is ‘only a little Parisian/Only a child/So simply’. Along with the steadiness, there was a constant nostalgic sense, and if anything else, it has definitely decreased Paris’s chances to win. It was as if Paris was more inviting people to visit France rather than showing France’s commitment to the Olympic movement and its future.

On the contrary, London came along with the promise of magical experience, best partnership, and the ‘lasting sporting legacy’. There was no word said about either media representation, or food, or London’s Olympic passion. Instead, all eyes were turned on the future of the Olympic sports, which are indeed the children. And so implicitly the British team has broken an Olympic golden rule. In the words of Le Monde correspondent, it is never the Games that need the city – it is the city that needs the Games. London needs the Olympics to transform the dens of the East End into a flourishing quarter. However, by focusing on children more than on anything else the team made the Olympic Committee feel like London is the only city out there that can maintain the sporting spirit. This is not to mention the wholehearted support of the Olympic bid from the government and the Royal House all the way through the campaign. And never mind the small businesses in the East End that will be ditched to make the dream come true. They will be dispersed for the sake of the future and children, and this is all that matters.

One should not of course discard the “lobbying culture”. However, Paris will have reconsidered its bidding approach, if it decides to re-enter competition for the Olympics 2016. The French may think it is not polite to press on the Committee in Lord Coe’s manner, but they have to listen to his words. Time and again in his speech he underlined the fact that nowadays it is more and more difficult to involve a child in a sporting activity. Thus, pressure is inevitable, but in this case the goal may well justify the means. The French were well prepared, and spoke from their hearts, and spoke a lot. But perhaps for their next bid they will need to reassess the legacy of de Coubertin and to rejuvenate the spirit of the presentation. And for once take the British as an example.