What is eccentric glamour? Let me answer that question with another question:
Have you ever understood the futility of a life spent asking “Does my bum
look big in this?” The pointlessness of a life lived without a dab of daring
panache? Glamour, ladies, is the birthright of every woman. It is that
mysterious, shimmering, you-know-it-when- you-see-it quality that surrounds
those who stand out from the crowd.
One way to get to the heart of the matter is to dissect four modern pairings:
Mr and Mrs Clinton, Paris and Nicole, Posh and Becks, and Miss Piggy and
Kermit. Has gobs of glamour: Bill Clinton, Nicole Richie, David Beckham and
Miss Piggy. Has less glamour than partner: Hillary Clinton, Paris Hilton,
Victoria Beckham and Kermit.
Glamour is inextricably bound up with intelligence, humour, and/or
accomplishment. Therefore, Bill and Nicole win out over Hillary and Paris
because they are smarter and more fun. David Beckham radiates more glamour
than his missus because of his athletic prowess. Miss Piggy and Kermit?
Sometimes, all you need is a few French phrases and an unassailable belief
in your own innate fabulousness.
Eccentric glamour is the next step up from glamour. It is an invigorating
mixture of the expected and the unexpected, the habitual with the kooky, the
constant and the kapow! (Miss Piggy is, by the way, the overall winner in
this category.)
To claim it, think of the basic elements of your personal style. Let’s call
them your style constants. Whether it’s a glossy, jet-black ponytail, a
saucy beauty mark, a nuclear explosion of natural red curls or a penchant
for livid-green tango shoes, every gal needs a repertoire of well-chosen
style constants. Simultaneously communicating and defining your unique
identity, these flourishes are unaffected by fleeting trends or the whims of
fashion. They are the glamorous foundations that will remain with you
through thick and thin (literally and figuratively).
Now take your style constants and punctuate them with a jolt of the
unexpected: a rhinestone bucket bag, a pair of mariachi slacks, a vintage
Pucci poncho. Et voilà! Eccentric glamour is the happy result.
Do today’s celebs possess eccentric glamour? No! Red-carpet glamour is the
antithesis of eccentric glamour. Hiring a stylist who scrounges free frocks
on your behalf from top designers does not really qualify as “creative
expression”. And today’s celebs are, for the most part, much too chicken,
too risk-averse, too scared of those what-were-they-thinking pages in weekly
magazines to indulge in eccentric glamour. When the chips are down, there
are three roads that lead to the kingdom of eccentric glamour: gypsy,
existentialist and socialite. The gypsy is the ethereal, poetic, arty,
bohemian face of eccentric glamour. Think Julia Roberts in her current
mom-living-at-the-beach mode. The existentialist is infinitely more severe,
dramatic, graphic and intellectual; while the gypsy is all about the flesh,
the existentialist is all about the mind. Think edgy. Think beatnik. Think
Annie Lennox or Chrissie Hynde. The socialite is heavy on the gloss, light
on the eccentricity. She radiates old-school glamour. She is lacquered,
designer-clad, high-heel addicted, manicured, elegant and slightly bitchy.
Think Anna Wintour. Think Jackie O.
There is no need to feel pigeon-holed or confined by these three categories.
Within each group there are, as you will see, endless nuances and
permutations that allow for unlimited personal expression.
THE GYPSY
There is much to recommend the gypsy lifestyle. First, it’s incredibly
romantic. Imagine yourself living in a yurt, calling your children in to
dinner by banging a beribboned tambourine on your hip. You can be wild. You
can be Carmen. While existentialist chicks feel obliged to imbue everything
with solemnity and meaning, you gypsies can shriek and bite the air — raaar!
— just because you feel like it. Imagine whirling around a campfire in a
flouncy cheesecloth skirt, flashing your eyes, not to mention those vintage
embroidered Victorian bloomers you found at the flea market, at a group of
swarthy, adoring, monosyllabic blokes with gold teeth. What could be more
dreamy?
Within the gypsy group there are endless variations and genres. Here are four
of my favourites.
THE EUROGLAM GYPSY
A throwback to the YSL rich hippies of the early 1970s — think Marisa Berenson
or Talitha Getty — the euroglam gypsy is a show-off who loves ethnic
fabrics, finger cymbals, appliqués, rickrack and fringing. Her idea of
heaven is to be shot for Vogue while getting her hands hennaed by a
leathery-faced crone in some far-flung, hectic marketplace.
Jade Jagger, left, is the contemporary queen of the euroglam gypsies. The
daughter of Mick and Bianca has built a whole brand identity simply by
floating about her house in Ibiza, rimming her eyes with kohl and festooning
her walls with sari fabrics. While the euroglam gypsy is at great pains not
to appear wealthy or bourgeois, she usually has a bit of money tucked away.
Fashion models often become euroglam gypsies when they pass their sell-by
date: see Helena Christensen. These gals have accumulated the kind of
shekels needed to bankroll the indolent euroglam gypsy lifestyle.
What does she wear? Matthew Williamson and Duro Olowu are euroglam gypsy
favourites. A major flea-market hag, she is always scouring the stalls for a
vintage Ossie Clarke, Thea Porter or Zandra Rhodes.
Is she loyal to this style? Yes! These gals are lifers. Though she may tidy
herself up for funerals and court appearances, it is almost unheard of for a
euroglam to become a socialite. This would involve having her tattoos
removed and bidding adieu to all her friends, freaks and acquaintances.
THE ISADORA GYPSY
Named after Isadora Duncan, left, that crazy chick who leaped around barefoot
in the dirt waving a piece of chiffon and, as a result, invented the concept
of modern dance. The Isadora gypsy has a strong theatrical sense and loves
dressing up: she wears panne velvet and vintage lace, and medieval robes and
turbans à la Edith Sitwell.
She adores enormous rings, beading and devoré. Her dream is to find a vintage
Fortuny tea gown. She is more cultured, better educated and less trendy than
her euroglam sister. Virginia Woolf is her favourite writer; olive green is
her preferred hue.
She is prone to bouts of melancholy. She does not have the reservoirs of happy
superficiality that keep the euroglam gypsy shrieking with laughter 24/7.
While the euroglam is knocking back champagne at Art Basel in Miami, the
Isadora is far more likely to be found contemplating the translucency of an
art nouveau vase on the Portobello Road or weeping quietly in the corner of
Vita Sackville-West’s all-white garden in Kent.
Contemporary celebrity examples? Cate Blanchett and Tilda Swinton have an
Isadora/existentialist thing going on, which make them the darlings of the
high-fashion monde.
Caution: the Isadora gypsy is accident-prone. She is quite likely to drown
while having an Ophelia moment in a fast-running stream, or, like the
original Isadora, get throttled when her scarf gets caught in the wheels of
her sports car. Her death, though often unexpected, is never mundane.
THE GREEN GYPSY
If sustainability and fair trade are more important to you than gypsy glamour
— that is, you prefer hemp flip-flops to towering espadrilles by Christian
Louboutin — you may well be a green gypsy. Formerly known as the Birkenstock
gypsy, the green gypsy is a fast-growing category in Hollywood. Inspired by
green celebs such as Leo and Brad, more and more young lasses — think Kate
Hudson, left, or Liv Tyler — are looking for environmentally responsible,
organic garments. Especially if they are knocked up or just hanging out at
their £5m Malibu beach shacks.
Warning: just because a garment is made of organic cotton does not mean it has
the allure and sizzle that are part and parcel of the eccentric-glamour
lifestyle. Try to be ruthlessly objective when buying and accessorising
green garments. Do not sacrifice style for sustainability. At the end of the
day, a burlap tabard is just a burlap tabard. Unless you team it with a pair
of Stella McCartney cruelty-free black patent-leather spikes, you run the
risk of looking as if you are an extra in a suburban production of The
Canterbury Tales.
Psych alert: while the euroglam gypsy tends toward superficiality, the green
gypsy, with her solar panels, compost toilet and constant anxieties about
the size of her carbon footprint, is excruciatingly earnest. If you enter
this category, please try not to become a dogmatic bore.
THE HOLLYWOOD GYPSY
The patron saint of Hollywood gypsies is Ali MacGraw.
She is the well-scrubbed Malibu version of gypsy style. In her crisp, white
kaftans and discreet jewellery, yoga-loving Ali is the acceptable face of
hippie, a woman with alternative ideals, a sizeable bank account and no body
odour or armpit hair.
As they age, these Hollywood gypsies can sometimes become socialites. This can
elicit accusations of betrayal by the green gypsies, who often work at the
health-food stores or yoga centres patronised by the Hollywood gypsies.
Eccentric Glamour by Simon Doonan is published on July 7 (Simon &
Schuster £14.99). To order it for the special price of £13.49 (including p&p),
call The Sunday Times BooksFirst 0870 165 8585 or visit timesonline.co.uk/booksfirst
NEXT WEEK Find out if you are a socialite or an existentialist
glamorous eccentric.
Plus Why French women don’t know diddly squat
PROFILE OF A GYPSY
Tilda Swinton
Q What are you wearing?
One of my son’s Aertex shirts, his father’s corduroy jacket, a daisy chain, a
Vivienne Westwood kilt and no shoes.
Q When did you first realise that you might be a glamorous eccentric?
Putting a name to the condition: possibly only when you asked me to
participate in this falderal, but I did have an inkling fairly recently at a
Nine Inch Nails concert, when I was stood on in the mosh pit by a hobnail
boot and realised that I had forgotten to change out of the towelling
slippers from the hotel.
Q Were your parents horrified?
Given that my general father could chew the hind leg off Lesage (François, the
legendary couture designer) about the best ways to tissue-wrap gold
frogging, I never reckoned they had a leg to stand on.
Q Are you prone to mood swings?
No, but don’t tell anyone . . .
Q Have you ever been mocked for any of your glamorous eccentricities?
Naturally. Being broken into mockery at a young age by three brothers, I
learnt early to bear those wounds with great pride.
Q What is the most eccentrically glam thing in your closet?
Possibly a Hubert de Givenchy wool Pierrot dress with a diamond print that is
so lovely, even the fact that it reeks of mothballs — and could that be
old-lady pee? — won’t stop me wearing it.
Q Have you ever wished you could trade in your life of glamorous
eccentricity for one of dreary conformity?
No need to trade. I happily cultivate at least two entirely separate and
distinct looks, and yet mix’n’match perfectly integrated lives. I’m finding
it hard to work out which could best be described as glam eccentric and
which dreary conformity. The Highland Hospice charity shops that dot every
village in the north of Scotland are where I live out my Miss Marple comes
to Warmington-on-Sea fantasies. Invariably more enticing in every way than
the drudgery of the high-chrome road.
Q When does eccentric glamour become idiocy?
When it is perpetrated with the aid of a solemn looking glass.
Q Who is your inspirational icon of glamorous eccentricity?
My fearless and sensationally chic grandmother and my nine-year-old daughter.
Q Do men think you are hot?
Of course they do — whether they admit it or not.
Q What is the thing that most offends your glamorously eccentric
sensibilities?
The death knell: witless good taste.
Q Where do you wish to be buried and in what?
In a shallow grave of sand, done up to the nines in a huge flowery chiffon
dress stretched out like a sail on a beach in the Hebrides, pecked to pieces
by birds.
The girl who has it all
Some of you will be a combo of gypsy/ existentialist/ socialite glamour; a
small number will bounce around effortlessly among all three. The world’s
best-known glamour all-rounder? Kate Moss.
8am Kate skips through customs after a sun-drenched Saint Barts
photoshoot, looking every inch the bedraggled bohemian gypsy in hot pants,
mini kaftan and embroidered pashmina.
Lunchtime There’s Kate in a quirky black Marc Jacobs or Balenciaga
ensemble — knee-high black boots, opaque black tights, minikilt,
military-style fitted jacket — having an existentialist chat and a pint of
beer with an enigmatic musician friend in a pub.
As the sun sets La Moss is snapped vamping off to a fancy opening on
the arm of Karl Lagerfeld in vintage bijoux and a Chanel gown, looking like
the complete groovy socialite.
