THE GILDED SHOES (FOR HER) BY ERIN HAZELTON

Ever since the moment I laid eyes on Dorothy’s ruby slippers I’ve had an obsession with “fancy” shoes.  As a three and four year old kid, I wore one pair of red shoes with everything.  It’s true:  red shoes go with everything.  I had other shoes, but those were the only ones I’d wear.  Around age six, I forced my mother to buy me a pair of turquoise loafers that looked like something Madonna would wear.  I wore those until the soles came unstitched.  At nineteen, I bought my first pair of Manolo Blahnik sandals.  They were gold.  It’s been downhill from there.  When it comes to shoes, I don’t discriminate, but I really, really have a soft spot for gilded shoes.  I don’t know what it is about gold shoes in particular, but when you wear them, you feel sexy, elegant…..I don’t know, like you are walking on gold?  They make you feel special.  And they definitely grab attention.  And yes, they can also be tacky….but that’s part of the fun.  This season Midas touched a lot of shoes….they are opulent and expensive.  Not for the weak of heart….here are a few of my favorites.

Caged crystal bootie by Sergio Rossi

Caged crystal bootie by Sergio Rossi (also seen above)

These Golden Butterflies by artist/design icon/sculptress Gabriella Crespi for Sergio Rossi are beyond beautiful!

Gabriella Crespi for Sergio Rossi

I don’t think there is a woman who has tried on this incredibly flattering shoe and hasn’t bought it.  Three women were wearing different versions of it at my friend Erin Fetherston’s wedding a few months ago….including the bride!  Jimmy Choo Lance Wavy Strap Sandal at Bergdorf Goodman

Jimmy Choo Lance Wavy Strap Sandal

Elegant and simple with just a little flash:  Chaos by Manolo Blahnik at Barney’s New York

Manolo Blahnik Chaos

And sometimes it’s all in the details:  Suede Ruffle Pump by Nicholas Kirkwood at Kirna Zabete

Nicholas Kirkwood’s suede ruffle pump

 Erin Hazelton also at www.thepeopleilike.com

DAVID MALLETT BY ERIN HAZELTON

I met David Mallett for the first time about nine years ago. Every time I went to Paris I was enamored with the way the Parisian women looked. They had this carefree elegance that I wanted to mimic. Their hair was never overdone; just well cut… the same went for their clothes.

I had been spending more and more time in Paris for work writing fashion and beauty articles, so I called one of the agents at Marilyn, one of the top modeling agencies in Paris, and I asked who gave the best haircut in Paris. David’s name was emailed back to me with no alternatives.

When I arrived at his salon, which was smaller then, but still in the same place, I was in love. It was my idea – everyone’s idea – of the perfect Parisian apartment. There was – and still is – an exotic array of taxidermy throughout the salon and a mix of modern furniture perfectly arranged amidst the architectural details of a 17th century French apartment.  David decorated the salon himself. Upon learning this fact (I had been Andy Goldsborough’s assistant before my time in Paris, so I appreciated good interior design when I saw it) – and this was before I met David face-to-face, before I knew about all the genius editorial he had done for several top magazines, before I knew that he styled the hair of the most beautiful French and American movie stars – I could see that his taste was insurmountable and I laid down any and all of the pre-haircut apprehension that I tended to carry with me into a salon. I was sick of bad highlights, rock-and-roll layers (this was the early 2000s) and, my personal favorite, up-dos that looked like I was going to a junior high semi-formal. I hadn’t had a good haircut in a long time and I was ready.

David ended up going for it and gave me my first crop of bangs since I was six years old. They looked amazing. When I went back to New York, everyone told me how “French” I looked. There is no bigger compliment in my book.

From that day forward David and I became friends. He was my go-to hair expert when I was writing about hair. He even gave me a beautiful, classic “Alexandre de Paris”-style chignon for my wedding. He also opened the salon for my bridesmaids and gave us all champagne. It is a wonderful wedding present and very glamorous memory to have.

That salon, like a David Mallett haircut, is perfect. Now that I am living in France, I want our very un-17th century house to look just like it. I know that this is impossible – we live in a medieval “chateau forte,” which is basically a burly, very masculine fortress where the charming woodwork that defines David’s salon would seem slightly amiss. But there are a few elements of David’s interior décor that I would love to implement into our home.

For one thing, his color palette is very much my style. It’s all grey. Anyone who visited us in our Soho apartment will know that we tend to shy away from crazy colors and try to make everything calm and soothing. Grey may sound cold, but done correctly (ask Andy) it can be quite comforting and inviting, just as it is in David’s salon. I also find it incredibly chic. Call me boring.

The main room that David uses to cut hair has the same hardwood, herringbone floors that we have in our “salon” – salon as in formal sitting room, not hair salon, although that would be amazing. The difference between his floors and ours is that his have a matte, natural, grey-toned stain on them and ours are varnished with an orange-y tone, high gloss finish. Very 1960s… but not in a good way. David is going to send me the name of the stain he used.

The furniture David put into his salon has all been collected on various trips to Paris’s Cligancourt, as well as flea markets in Belgium – which are apparently amazing (Andy – let’s go when you are here next week!).  The furniture that David has selected for the salon is a unification of 1950’s, 60’s and even 70’s pieces (think soft leathers on metal bases, Saarinen tables and lamps) and more ornate, Louis XIV chairs and mirrors. There is also the taxidermy: an ostrich, a leopard and two white peacocks. There is a horse head that fell off of a statue and a Poul Henningsen Artichoke Lamp that is suspended by a chain in the center of the “sink room.” I love staring at it as I get a luxurious head massage.

In a way, David’s salon feels a bit like a cleaner, greyer, more contemporary Carlo Mollino space…. If Carlo Mollino were French and not Italian, if that makes any sense.

The bones of each space demand a certain kind of decor, just like the body of each human should be dressed in a way that is most flattering to his or her form. David nailed his space… just like he nails haircuts.

David also recently launched a new line of beautifully packaged (no surprise) hair products. The minimal, old school “pharmacie,” yet very modern feel of the black bottles of the products will make any bathroom look a little more chic.

By Erin Hazelton

Photos by Nisuc

http://david-mallett.com/index.html

THE HUNT For STYLE By ERIN HAZELTON

When I was a kid all I did was look for inspiration; beauty. I religiously flipped through my mother’s monthly Better Homes and Gardens and her occasional Town & Country picking out the prettiest girls, the best dresses and the nicest rooms. I made it a game and I’d challenge my mother to see if she had the same ability as me to select the “right one.”

I subjected my Barbie dolls to the same sort of competition, laying them side-by-side in their outfits, flinging the “ugly” ones off to the side. I only wanted storybooks with beautiful illustrations and charming characters. Even the flowers in my neighbor’s gardens were subject to my quality control: I’d pluck the most perfect buds before they’d die and trot home with a bouquet for my mother, who would in turn scold me because Mrs. So-and-so called saying she saw me, again, destroying her garden.

My select tastes were reflected in my wardrobe. I was mostly concerned with wearing as many “pretty” things as possible and all at the same time. My favorite dress (usually my Christmas dress) didn’t necessarily match my favorite pink tights nor did any of it go with my turquoise suede loafers or my white Easter hat. But I liked each piece and was convinced they stood on their own, so I was only making a more interesting outfit by wearing them together. And so I did.

With Giovanna Battaglia on the way to a show in les Tuileries

Mary Jane Russell in an oriental inspired pantsuit, 1953. Photo by John Rawlings.

As I grew up, I became more concerned with melding the overall look, but I was still teased for my fashion sense. Oddly enough, I never let the other kids’ comments deter me. If fitting in meant melding into a homogenous group of Gap-clad kids, I didn’t want to. Eventually they accepted my eccentricities and I forgave them finally acknowledging that fashion wasn’t for everybody.

This difference was one of the main reasons I moved to New York when I was eighteen. I had been accepted to a few different universities, but NYU was in the middle of Manhattan and I knew that’s where all the magazines were, where all the designers lived and where all the crazies went to embrace their craziness. I knew I’d be able to fully splay my fashion feathers and I wouldn’t look like a weirdo doing it.

And so I did. The sidewalks became my runway and for the first time I knew people were looking at me because they liked my look; because I was a little out of the ordinary and it was interesting, not intimidating. So I pushed things a little further. I’d try my best to translate what I saw in the pages of Vogue and I’d wear necklines that were a little too deep (“But I don’t have big boobs, so it isn’t vulgar!”). I wore pointy shoes when most college kids didn’t realize they were chic just yet… just a little witchy. My Gucci bellbottoms? People were still a little confused, but maybe I was cool? And my bright red Dolce & Gabbana military coat? As conservative as it was – it was a calf-length coat! – it’s brazen color was like a wearing a red light, and I suddenly found myself accosted by a bunch of would-be johns. A pair of multi-color, wide-leg Tuleh trousers fresh off the runway? Apparently they belonged on a curtain rod according to a young man I passed on the street in Paris one day.

W Magazine’s Stefano Tonchi and Giovanna Battaglia

I liked to take chances and to figure out what made me feel best. Or what made me feel confident, or sexy, or intelligent, or cool, or whatever way I wanted to feel. These days, with street fashion and blogs, everyone is on top of fashion. The world is a runway and everyone wants to stand out. Okay, not everyone, but a lot of people. Even where I live, in a small village in the French Alps, people seem to get it. I’m not saying they all get it, I’ve seen some purple highlights, numerous facial piercings and some really bad shoes in the parking lot at my son’s school, but I have felt, on several occasions, a bit sorry that I didn’t try harder with my outfit when it came time to pick-up my son.

That said, because fashion is becoming more mainstream, I suddenly find it less inspiring. I’m not floored like I used to be by magazine editorials. And I really miss Carine Roitfeld at French Vogue! Now I pretty much look to my friend, the stylist and street style icon, Giovanna Battaglia for inspiration… literally and figuratively. She always looks perfectly polished, yet not too uptown lady. She’s cool and funny and incredibly chic. She does fashion in a real way and doesn’t (often) look like a fashion superhero like so many other newly minted street fashion stars do.

So I started to do what Giovanna – and every real stylist – does when she’s preparing for a shoot: I started pulling out books and old magazines for inspiration. I ordered Diana Vreeland’s The Eye Has to Travel, Guy Bourdin’s In Between and every other book containing his images, Marisa Berenson: A Life in Portraits, and Bals: Legendary Costume Balls of the Twentieth Century. I began scouring the Internet for 1950’s and 60’s Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar images. I went through my mother-in-law’s modeling portfolio from the late 60’s/early 70’s. I began following “shrimptoncouture” on instagram and her daily feeds of vintage images became part of my fashion sustenance.

The elegance and ingenuity of all of these old images, the quiet sensuality (and perhaps not so quiet in the Bourdin images) invigorated me. The hell with trends, I began to think, I just want to metamorphasize into these images. I’m not saying I’m only going to wear vintage, but I’m definitely bringing the old Bill Blass dress and jacket set that is a size or two too big to the tailor tomorrow, along with the amazing 60’s Geoffrey Beene ensemble I found at Patina last weekend in New York (I really, really wish Lenore Newman wasn’t closing that store!). I’m also going to save my pennies and invest in the latest Valentino, Rochas, Thom Browne and Oscar de la Renta collections, where femininity is embraced and accentuated.

Lanvin leather coat and belt, two vintage Geoffrey Beene dresses and Azzedine Alaia in my closet

I’m done with trying to find myself. I can express who I am, how I’m feeling within a tighter fashion vocabulary. I’m all grown up now and as much as my childhood tendency for piling on as many fads as possible, and as much as I want to try out every new style that pops out of the fashion machine every time I walk past a Zara, I’ve finally stylistically matured.

From now on I will be a lady. I will embrace my waist. I will show off my neck. I will knot my hair into tidy chignons. I will utilize my jewelry with unfettered abandon. I will not be scared of full skirts, nor will I shy away from a pencil skirt, even if she makes it difficult for me to walk. I will tuck my turtlenecks into my high-waisted trousers and skirts. I will wear clutches even in the day, if, of course, there is a reason for it (which usually only means during fashion week). I may even buy a cape.  I’ll never say no to an evening glove and in a few years, when I’m officially old, I’ll probably start wearing hats.

I will never be boring, nor will I look like an old lady that lives in the Upper East Side, or Geneva, for that matter (it’s closer to home now), though I will look to them for inspiration. You better believe my jewelry will be big and that my shoes will always be bold and over-embellished. I will always wear leopard prints… any animal print, for that matter.

Harper’s Bazaar cover; March 1959, Photo by Ben Rose, art director Henry Wolf.

Giovanna Battaglia in two trends of the season, animal prints and a cape

I will continue to unearth the past and yank it into the future. I will make the little girl I used to be proud of whom she’s become.

The Gilded Owl is honored and excited to have Erin Hazelton as its contributing fashion editor – always on the hunt for style!  Erin also writes about people influencing fashion, design, culture and more on her brilliant blog The People I Like.