| felipe camiroaga

One has style

Once I was told that becoming huge in fashion a lot had to do with creating your own ‘significant’ style. Next by meeting the right people ‘a style’ will be able to make-or-break your career. People will copy you and when they start doing that, you are ‘it’ and ‘in’. Become a rock chick he said, or a conservative Jane, a chic-freak, a name-brands, a prep or an Emo-Cothic, as long as they can label you, you are fine. But as my middle name is ‘wayward’, and labeling not my style, I kindly passed his advice.

Sure, I do have a style, but that one doesn’t have or need a nametag. My style is influenced by many different tastes, countries and not unimportant, by the mood I’m in at that precise moment. Some styles and trends get my attention, others I pass, I look&steal and create my own. I am Jekyll and Hyde meets mossback Katie Holmes, I worship Alt and despise LV and only the color black may wear my name tag.

I wrote down a few of my style-habits and fashion-ingredients and I wonder If you could come up with just one label … Dare me!

First of all, I like my clothes to be clean and my house covered in light, but does that make me ‘a Jane’? I like dressing up and dressing down, but dislike wearing stuff inside out. Sitting front row, but can't deal with too much attention, so I guess am not ‘an Alt’. Morning newspapers and Jonathan Franzen to fall a sleep with. Collector of high heels, better off on flip flops.

I like my movies to be memorable and my oysters to contain pearls. Black leather trousers, an vintage Levi’s jacket, finished with my Stone’s tee, happy chick. Style Bubble is cute, The Sartorialist irresistible. Love Sales, but better in selling. Winters in Stockholm, Spring in Paris, always NY. Black, grey, nude, taupe vs ocher. Baggy trousers, with button down grandma blouses.

Self-made necklaces, big sunglasses, a ring with a memory. I need my wallet to be big enough, but still asking myself why. Fancy lobster on da beach, my mums homemade soup. My jeans to be skin-tight or baggy-wide, as long as my ass looks fine. I cherish my floppy hat on a bad-hair-day. Agent Provocateur, but always ending up with HM underwear. Talking about fashion, arguing about politics.

Like my coffee to make me hyper, my tea to bring me down. I adore vintage as long as it doesn't smell, Rick Owens if it weren't that expensive and my bags need to be huge. DIY, but most of the times too lazy to do it myself. Like my boyfriend to be tall and my children having names like Anna, Tom, Freja, Stella, Marc or Vogue.

I cherish my old typewriter but prefer my laptop. London and Ibiza but ‘home’ will always be Amsterdam. Soft drinks and hard booze. Can’t stand a watch, but I’m always on time. Colorful bracelets, black/white pictures, my unfinished wooden floor. I sing along with ABBA, listen to ZAZ, dance on Rolling Stones and Puccini makes me cry. Am afraid of ladybugs, adore spiders.

Matisse, Alexander McQueen, John Lennon, Chanel, Anton Corbijn, Thakoon, Coco Rocha, Jane Birkin, and many others ...

you have my attention

Home is where my style is.