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Respect for fashion. Roman holidays. Ruins. And procrasti-Rambling.

Anyone who knows me, or has read my blog posts before and has a feel for who I am, will look at that title and shake their head in disbelief, for I am no follower of fashion - unless it's the fashion of the gardener or dog-walker: slightly dishevelled, crumpled round the edges, wearing fraying jeans, shirts with no discernible remnant of shape, wellies and a little mud (on a good day ... a lot of mud, on every other day).

But look carefully. For what I wrote was not 'follower of' fashion but 'respect for' fashion.

I respect fashion.

Not - as will be obvious to everyone - in the sense of acquisition and adornment of myself. For a start, I am short and un-fashionably rounded at the edges; soft and squishy and good for cuddling, I have been told. But in the artistic sense. I appreciate the artistic beauty of (most) fashion. And the industry and craft that prop up the big fashion houses. I am not referring to the near slavery that underpins and undermines the cheap throw-away markets. How could anyone respect the greedy arrogance and bullying brutality of that aspect of the industry? No; I am referring to the art of fashion houses like Missoni.




Inspired by paintings




And by colour




And by artisanal fabrics




And built on the dreams of visionaries, who combine all of those, to make clothes that are worthy of museum exhibitions - this was the London Fashion Museum in July. And a star-struck Littlest.




I respect vision and form and beautiful, high-quality materials. And I respect the finished products, even if I couldn't or wouldn't wear them myself.

Does my respect extend to having favourites? Well - Missoni, of course, for opening my eyes to how art inspires clothing; Chanel, for classic, elegant lines that will always be identifiable as Chanel; Victoria Beckam ... yes! Surprised? Well you shouldn't be - her latest show combines relaxed easy to wear clothes with fabrics that look good and are packaged into garments that most women could wear; and Prada for dressing Lupita Nyong'o in luminous blue, for the Academy awards, in 2014 and in doing so, transforming her into a Vermeer painting.

What frivolity! What unexpected appreciation of the eye candy that is fashion. What surprisingly feminine dreaminess in someone usually so grounded (literally) in spades and watering cans and soil  and shortly (just as soon as I've finished procrasti-writing here) in vats of bubbling chutney - but if you have read this far and are thinking that, you miss my point (which arguably wasn't hard to miss, because I haven't got to it yet). Yes, I have some respect (with a small r) for the industry that dresses the high priestesses and gladiators of the Paris, London, New York and Milan fashion weeks (you see, I even know where they happen). But I have full Respect (with the capital R that it deserves) for the fashion houses that renovate, donate and support causes that are diametrically opposed to the fantasy worlds they create on cat walks and red carpets. You haven't heard of this? Neither had I; let me enlighten you ...

We were in Rome 2 weeks ago.
In blistering heat, a lovely, Italian friend took us on a walking tour round the sights - we had only a few hours, so pavement walking, plus strategically moving his car between areas to gain maximum exposure to as many sites as possible, was the best option. The aim - "to get a feel for it," so that we could "return one day to do it properly."

Littlest and the Italian Grandad she adopted for a day




Well, one slight disappointment was all the building work - scaffolding, cranes and billboards (blank) - that flanked our route to the Colosseum. This largely obstructed our view, as we approached, of probably the most iconic structure of ancient Rome. The Colosseum itself, when finally revealed, was  also gripped and stuccoed with scaffolding.




However, what was amazing in retrospect, was the blankness of the billboards. And the lack of advertising - no banners, no flags, no painted signs - on the scaffolding. Why? You're thinking I have lost the plot - strayed from the subject; earned the buzzer for deviation if playing by 'Just-a-Minute' rules. But I haven't. I am still referring to my Respect for fashion and this time the Respect is for the philanthropy of the owner of Tod's who is paying millions for the renovation of the Colosseum. Without, apparently, any self-promotional motive for either his own name or his company.

 Respect.




It was difficult to photograph the building without evidence of the renovation work, but I managed, so there is no scaffolding in these pictures




But I didn't know, then, about Tod's.
If I'm honest, I don't know much about Tod's now; they make luxury leather goods - bags and shoes - I understand. My favourite bag is leather, the stamp in it claims it was made in Italy and it was bought last year in the Piazza del Duomo, in Florence. But I can't claim that it has designer credentials; it doesn't even pretend to be a designer bag. I like it and that's all that matters. To me. Plus, it fits with my stuff and my lifestyle; it passes my "only buy it if it's made well" test and it's a good colour. It is not a Tod's bag, but that's not what this is about ... Buzz! Oops! Challenged on account of deviation (Just a Minute rules) but if I argue loose association, I win back the subject and return to Respect for fashion.

'Respect' which doesn't stop with Tod's.

Fendi sponsored the recent renovation of the Trevi Fountain. Again, apparently without any advertising fanfare that they were doing so. The restored Trevi Fountain is truly astonishing; a wonder of the ancient world, so stunningly beautiful that it appears to steal some of the light of the day and glows.




All Fendi asked for was a small plaque (we missed it) and a fashion shoot, for its 90th anniversary, when the renovation was finished, on a glass stage above the clear waters - crystal on crystal: stunning and inspired. A tribute both to its home town and to the waters that for millennia have sustained life in Rome.

Respect.

Fendi clearly has a passion for fountains (fendi for fountains), as they have pledged financial support for the restoration of several others in Rome, including this one




- the Fontana dell'Acqua Paola in the Trastevere district above central Rome. And the four small fountains known as the Quattro Fontane. Fendi thereby giving something back to the city that has sustained its birth, life and industry - Big Respect.

And there's more. Everywhere you look in Rome, there's more. These are the Spanish steps, iconised  by Audrey Hepburn in the film, Roman Holiday




Note how bereft of tourists they are; how pristine; how clean the gleaming steps. What is not shown (because I thought them ugly at the time and certainly didn't imagine writing a blog about them) is a line of temporary fencing, keeping the crowds back, below the lower edge of the photograph. The Spanish steps have been closed for renovation, which is now almost complete. They shine in the sun. Pristine and apparently unblemished. Again, there was no obvious advertising. Again, no organisation boasting its generosity. But plentiful generosity there was; raise a hand for Bulgari, the luxury fashion jewellers, who quietly sponsored the project.

Again; Respect.

I suspect there are many more examples of similar philanthropy by other fashion houses; a quick search finds Ferragamo and the Uffizi in Florence; Renzo Rosso and the Rialto Bridge in Venice; Gucci, Prada and Cartier just three of many that support art and culture with galleries, museums and educational facilities. Many other and diverse industries follow the same path. Charitable giving, or support for heritage - philanthropy in any form - always deserves respect. Particularly when the juxtaposition of extremes of luxury with extremes of poverty or the perilous state of decaying antiquity is hard to ignore. But it is where philanthropy is done without any self-regard; without an eye to what might be gained as a result and without drawing any attention to yourself that it earns the full sized, quietly applauded, massively capitalised R.

So, humbled, I acknowledge my Respect for fashion. And doff my hat, or stamp my wellies, or wave my thornproof gloves at the industry. In salute.




Finally, digressing a little, but still on the subject of Roman beauties; still within the rules of Just a Minute, just. Though, I admit I cling to my subject somewhat tenuously, if lean, leggy, impeccably-dressed beauties are what you expect to see. This isn't one of them -




- there's something about this chap ...

He is one of the Dioscuri twins - Pollux (the immortal one, son of Zeus) and Castor (who wasn't. Immortal, that is. Nor the son of Zeus. Which makes their being twins a bit puzzling. More so, when added to the myth that they hatched from an egg). This one is Pollux (probably) - at the Piazza Campidoglio.
There is ... well ... hmmm ... something about him. Something eye-catching. Something arresting. Something that makes you stop and think 'Well, hello! That sculptor had either a theatrical inclination or a sense of humour. Or both.'

It's the pose that he strikes, as he models his conical hat; a remnant of the pointy egg from which he hatched - apparently - but who am I to say that an egg from which human-ish beings hatch wouldn't be pointy. I pity the poor swan that laid it! His perfectly curled hair and casually draped, loosely falling robe - look at the carefully exposed shoulder - and the relaxed outward turning knee, all scream that his position at the top of a long, wide, sweeping flight of steps, the Cordonata, looking down on Rome, is entirely intentional: he's making an entrance, darling! That he is standing at the edge of The Piazza Camp-idoglio is perhaps apt, in modern English at any rate. I know - I know; Campidoglio actually refers to Capitol as in capitol square, the seat of power atop the Capitoline hill and only a quirk of Roman dialect changed it from Capitoline to Campidoglio. But the sound of the word in my head and the flamboyant, foppish angle of Pollux's wrist made my small brain smile and the voice inside my head whisper 'Ooh, I say!' *

Finally, back to Respect (note the R is now heavy - this is not just Respect but Respect with a heady, heavy overtone of awe), the Piazza Campidoglio was renovated, too. In 1536. Not by charitable donation as far as I know. But by a one-man-brand of cultural and architectural and artistic genius that defined the 'fashion' of his day and influenced design for centuries to come: Michelangelo.




*Apologies to anyone who thought this might be a serious discussion of the antiquities of Rome. Or of fashion. Or of art. Or of anything really. A procrasti-ramble is all that it was. That and a few words highlighting an industry, often misunderstood, and misinterpreted as being inward looking and elitist, that in fact is neither.


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