Friday, May 16, 2025
Blog Page 241

Trinity Term expectations: Oxford at its finest?

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‘So, what’s Trinity Term like?’ an unsuspecting fresher asks a second-year.

‘Ah, Trinity Term …’ the second-year replies, looking off longingly into the distance.

Trinity Term seems to have some sort of mythical status. Its mention in the presence of older years is met with sighs of yearning and assertions of how splendid it is. After the cold gloom of Hilary term and the months when darkness settled over the city at 4PM, I sure am looking forward to experiencing Oxford in all its sunny glory. When I first visited, it was mid-July, and summer was at its height. The city was magical – the yellow brick golden, the blue sky a marvellous backdrop to the RadCam. Soon, Oxford will transform once again into a city of gleaming spires.

As a Classicist, I am lucky enough, if you can put it that way, not to have to worry about Prelims until Hilary of second year. So, my aim for this Trinity, before the gruelling marathon of Mods kicks in, is to lap up every beam of Oxford sun that I possibly can. I will not be taking the pollen-filled, sweet-smelling summer air for granted.

My desire to spend as much time outdoors as possible, whether while studying or not, is heightened by the two years of lockdowns we have just emerged from. What better way to remedy this feeling of prolonged confinement than by frequenting the rolling fields of Port Meadow or Uni Parks? They promise us picnics in fields, swimming in the river, and, of course, punting. An Oxford rite of passage, many of us have been looking forward to going punting ever since we first received our offers. The question remains to be asked as to who will be the punter and who the puntee (I am most certainly the latter). As evening sets in, the pub can be swapped for a park of your choice – bring drinks, snacks, a speaker and a decent playlist and you’re set.

Something I and my fellow freshers are particularly excited about is Trinity’s promise of our first Oxford ball. Many colleges, such as Queen’s and Hertford, are hosting their black-tie ball this coming term, whilst ChristChurch, Trinity and New are set to stun with their white-tie commemoration balls. I am eager to see the colleges spruced up for this triennial affair, much as a ball does seem like an extra-massive, extra-fancy open-air BOP. I can already hear my friends’ groans at the dozens of disposable photos I will insist on taking – but what has to be done has to be done. The prospect of dressing up and spending the night in the sultry summer outdoors, drinking and eating and dancing to our heart’s content until dawn, is one that seems straight out of a fairytale. With, of course, the less romantic but equally entertaining addition of stumbling around at 6AM. Somerville-Jesus students are already preparing for their post-ball stagger over to Magdalen bridge for the May Morning choir performance.

The college quad was cordoned off during Hilary term to allow the grass to recover, but for Trinity it will be made accessible to students again (sticking to the boast that it is one of the only colleges to let its students walk on the grass). Might we be able to convince our tutors to let us have tutorials on the quad? Probably not, but, at any rate, we can “study” in groups on the grass, fulfilling our light academia fantasies. Picture perfect: book in hand, dappled sunlight over the page, bottle of lemonade (or perhaps pink gin) by our side. We will become the embodiment of tourist eye candy.

Clubbing in the summer will be a whole other experience to winter clubbing. It will be thrilling to walk back to our accommodation when we can catch the first glimpses of the new day’s sun skirting the horizon, albeit a little concerning for our 9AM lectures. And – this is the thing I’m most excited for – not having to use club cloakrooms. No more standing in endless queues to deposit our college puffers! No more college puffers at all, in fact. I am curious as to what everyone’s preferred item of stash will be for the summer months; Oxonians will hardly be able to go for long without donning some sort of college insignia. Bucket hats maybe? College polo shirts? We shall see what fashion choices the heat churns out.

There is of course everything sport and drama related to look forward to. A few of my friends and I have decided to commit to having a go at rowing, after two terms of reluctant delaying. The idea of falling into a lukewarm river on a moderately sunny day in May is heaps more appealing than having the same experience in the middle of Storm Eunice. Although there are more than a few people who have warned me off from rowing –  I still can’t tell if they were joking or not – it is something I feel compelled to try. The Oxford vs Cambridge Boat Race on Sunday, which saw a victory for the men’s Blues, has further whetted my appetite for rowing. Drama-wise, various student companies will be putting on a number of different productions, from musicals to traditional plays. Some will even be hosted in open-air theatres, which promises to be a real treat.

I might be romanticising Trinity Term slightly. Collections, the workload, and the general intensity of Oxford life will of course be as prevalent in Trinity as they were in Michaelmas and Hilary. Attending lectures in Exam Schools will involve both kinds of sweating. However, I do think that the warm days will bring with them a certain levity; as they say, the sun makes for a sunny disposition.

Image credit: Polina Tankilevitch

‘Beckett on speed’: In conversation with Nocturne Productions

Nocturne Productions is staging its first play, Jez Butterworth’s Mojo, at the Michael Pilch Studio in Week 3. We spoke to director Max Morgan, producer Jemima Chen, and actors Noah Radcliffe-Adams (Baby) and Emma Pollock (Sweets) about the upcoming show.

You’re a newly-formed production company. How did Nocturne come about?

Max: Jem[ima] and I vaguely knew each other before we came to Oxford and I knew she’d been producing things. A lot of the production companies are run by second years, so we thought why don’t we have a stab at forming our own, making the most of drama at Oxford and how accessible everything is. We set up the company at the start of last [Hilary] term, picking the play, and now we’re here.

Jemima: We’re really keen on Pinter, Beckett, Jez Butterworth. I was already doing [Pinter’s] The Dumb Waiter [A2 Productions, HT22], and we want to do more dark comedy.

Max: Hence ‘Nocturne’, because it’s kind of dark, but also has the element of musicality and melodiousness. We had this image of a piano with the black and white keys.

Jemima: There were a lot of names. We were almost called ‘Wheelbarrow’.

Could you summarise what Mojo is about and why you chose to adapt it?

Max: I was really attracted to it because it’s been described as ‘Beckett on speed’: a real pressure-cooker play that unfolds over the course of less than twenty-four hours on a Saturday night and early Sunday morning, after six Soho gangsters in 1958 have discovered that their club owner, of the Atlantic, has been cut in two. It’s about how they descend into paranoia, and carnage unfolds in a network of marvellously-layered backstabbing.

Jemima: Mojo’s such a stylistic play and we can really mess around with that. We’re making the set immersive, having the first row of seating converted into chairs and tables; we have a live drummer. He suggested having a dress code for opening night: a 50s-Soho-Kit Kat Club style theme.

Max: It’s been described as a combination of Tarantino, Pinter, and Mamet in its witty dialogue and absurd tropes. It’s the ultimate combination really.

The Stage team this term are trying to demystify Oxford drama. Could you tell us a bit about your experience, and any advice you might have for those wanting to start out?

Jemima: At school I mainly did acting. I didn’t do anything behind the scenes, but I always wanted to do the producer aspect, because it’s kind of an ‘unsung hero’ role. It started like that. You pick it up so, so quickly and you go from there!

Max: I got here and was so overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of stuff on the OUDS Facebook page. I just applied for everything manically, and managed to get involved acting in the Jesus College Shakespeare Project but also assistant directing in the first term. It was such an incredible experience, being in a rehearsal room with student actors and a student creative team, and I learnt a lot from it. Assistant directing roles and getting involved in productions is a really good way of getting to grips with how you want to take things a step further, and people really want to give you tips and share techniques. There’s a lot on offer.

It’s often sadly the case that actors are discouraged by not getting parts, or simply don’t audition. What has your experience been like?

Noah: It is quite nerve-wracking auditioning for anything. You are going to get nervous and that’s a good thing. I auditioned for a couple of Covid online things and didn’t get them and had some serious self-doubt. Then at the end of the year there was a [St Peter’s] play on, and I got involved in that. That gave me a lot of confidence to just go for stuff. From the outside looking in, it does look quite exclusive. I felt like that. I think there is a certain element of getting your foot in the door. I couldn’t recommend enough going for as many things as possible and not being discouraged. I’d really recommend going for a college play.

Emma: The radio plays and Covid plays didn’t appeal to me at all. I hadn’t met anyone, it was absolutely terrifying. I came into second year having not done anything and just thought OK, I’ll put myself out there for as many things as possible. And the more you do things, the more you meet people, so the more you’re going to get things. To put yourself out there you really have to put yourself out there. And advertise that it’s your first time. OUDS is encouraging first-time actors, so that’s a plus.

Noah: People just take a chance on you, instilling confidence within you. That means you’ll act way better. A more comfortable, inclusive environment gets the best out of people. That’s no secret, really.

Could you tell us what attracts you to your part in Mojo, and how it differs from roles you’ve played in the past?

Noah: The last two parts I’ve played have been quite surly, senior characters and I wanted to do something completely different. I love the juvenile vulnerability of Baby and I think he’s so unpredictable and volatile but at the same time so vulnerable. That’s really fun to act and creates a tense dynamic with the other characters, intensified by the claustrophobia of the Pilch.

Emma: There’s a hierarchy of characters in Mojo. We’re scared of Baby but we kind of adore him and worship him in a strange way. Sweets is quite a paranoid person, but also very funny. Some of the stuff he spouts is hilarious. He’s one of a comedy duo, Sweets and Potts. They’re always on pills, and that makes them even more paranoid. I like to think of it as if you inserted a child into this gang environment: quite scared, quite confused by the violence, obedient and worried about what’s going on. But children are strangely aware of what’s going on in a way that adults aren’t. A different perspective on things, in a naїve way.

Do you have a favourite line?

Max: I think Noah’s is pretty good.

Noah: Well, I don’t know how much it would mean in isolation, but ‘Kiss my pegs.’

Jemima: I was literally going to say that.

Max: ‘There’s nothing like someone cutting your dad in two for clearing the mind.’

Noah: ‘My piss is black.’ That’s a great line.

Jemima: I like the lawnmower. ‘Over the face with a lawnmower.’

What can we expect from Nocturne Productions in the future?

Max: Next year we’re hoping to do Making Noise Quietly by Robert Holman, which is a series of three vignettes, and get first-time crews involved as their first production. We’ll have a different team on each of the vignettes, and hopefully do it at the BT Studio, and get as many people involved as possible. It’s really important. Fingers crossed for new writing too.

Jemima: And some films!

Finally, in one word, why should we come and see Mojo?

Jemima: Cutlasses.

Max: Speed.

Noah: Drums.

Emma: Violence.

Mojo runs at the Michael Pilch Studio from 10th-13th May.

Image credit: Biba Jones (@bibasketches)

The Godfather and the Thrill of Cinema

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CW: death, violence

With the 50th anniversary of the release of Francis Ford Coppola’s 1972 film The Godfather, many cinemas throughout Oxford — including Curzon, Phoenix Picturehouse, and The Ultimate Picture Palace — showed Parts I and II in their theatres to nearly sold-out audiences. The special showings have provided film enthusiasts the opportunity to see the classic films in theatres; for many it was the first time. The simple act of seeing a well-known film in cinemas — as opposed to watching it on a streaming service — has the potential to give the film another life and enables audiences to see it from a new perspective.

The Godfather is a controversial topic in popular culture. Ask two different people for their opinions on it and they will give wildly different answers. To fans, it is the beginning of a duology that can be considered two of the greatest films ever made. To others, it represents a class of film that people pretend to like; in reality, it’s boring, drawn-out, hard to follow, and — worst of all — overrated. Whatever your persuasion, The Godfather is undeniably an ambitious, well-made film with a vast cultural impact.

A film that rests so prominently in the public’s psyche can be difficult to watch subjectively. Audiences go into it with their own biases and expectations. In many ways, they have already formed their opinions before hearing “I believe in America” for the first time. 

And now to expose my own biases: The Godfather is one of my favourite films. It has been since I first watched it on TV at age seventeen. I was taking a film class in school and knew that I was supposed to love this film. I couldn’t entirely follow what was happening. Sometimes, I couldn’t even make out Marlon Brando’s breathy dialogue without turning up the TV speakers. But I loved it. The portrayal of crime-ridden 1940-50s New York with the film’s 1970s atmosphere made me dream of seeing it in a real cinema someday.

The 8.30 showing I attended at Phoenix Picturehouse was sold out. The theatre burst with every type of filmgoer: students, families, elderly couples, groups of friends who later discussed the film outside over cigarettes, young amorous couples who made out as people were murdered onscreen, and plenty of solo film enthusiasts like me. We all sat shoulder-to-shoulder, in a small movie theatre in 2022, to see this film from 1972.

The Godfather gripped the audience in rapt attention. Everyone held their breath as Jack Woltz followed the layer of blood in his bed to the severed head of his prize horse. Some leaned forward in their seats when Michael crept around the empty hospital trying to protect his father. Others audibly gasped when the car blew up (to avoid spoilers, I won’t say who was in the car). Everyone laughed when Clemenza made fun of Michael for not telling Kay he loves her over the phone while standing in a room full of mafiosi. The audience’s reactions, in the same vein as Cinema Paradiso, added to the viewing experience. There is something to be said for the fact that The Godfather could elicit these reactions.

The experience did not stop after the end credits. As I left the theatre, I heard different groups discussing the film on the pavement outside. One woman stated “I liked it” to her friends in an unsure tone. A man told his wife he didn’t remember it being so violent as they stood with their rather young-looking children. A student kept repeating the word “incredible” and shaking their head. A man talked about how this was his second time seeing it in cinemas that week.

Watching classic films in cinemas is somewhat of an attraction. It is, after all, viewing them in the manner they are meant to be viewed. There is a sense of nostalgia as well as a sense of reinvention. 

This viewing was like watching the film for the first time… again. I knew what was going to happen but I couldn’t wait to see how it played out. It was better than any previous time I watched the film at home. The rise of streaming services has changed how we watch films. As with many media innovations and changes, this is neither an inherently positive nor negative phenomenon. Streaming services have made film more accessible. People now have easier access to more films and more genres of films than they did before. However, the fact remains that we now watch them in drastically different ways than filmmakers originally intended. The screens are smaller and the ease of watching at home involves more distractions than a cinema. As I witnessed the reactions of the audience around me, I wondered if perhaps films are also meant to be seen in the company of others. It makes the comedic parts funnier, the suspenseful parts scarier, and the gruesome parts a little more bearable.

The Godfather certainly seemed different through the perspective of a cinema chair as opposed to my sofa. The violence on screen, while somewhat tame by today’s standards, was much more impactful and grotesque on the big screen of a cinema. Cinematographer Gordon Willis and Coppola’s brilliant use of lighting and colour was magnified. Deliberate choices related to composition and blocking were starker and more effective. Unlike my previous experiences watching the film, the dialogue was clear and captivating, demonstrating the brilliance of the script.

The Godfather’s mixed reputation remains when people see it in a cinema — I witnessed this first hand. However, experiencing the film in a noticeably different way — visually, audibly, and surrounded by an entranced audience — might just sway the opinion of those who deem it an overrated film. Seeing it on a large screen with its grainy old-school yet inventive visuals, one of the things that struck me the most was that The Godfather is gritty. It is authentic, raw, violent. There are editing mistakes. It is an imperfect film. But it is a masterpiece.

Perhaps the secret to ‘saving’ cinemas in the age of streaming services is to show more classic films and audience favourites in theatres. With the popularity of the showings of the Godfather movies and other series like The Ultimate Picture Palace’s “The World of Wong Kar-Wai,” there is no denying that seeing these films in theatres appeals to audiences. People, perhaps even unconsciously, want to experience them in their intended form. Watching a film on a laptop in bed is great, but going to the cinema to watch a classic film is, without a doubt, a worthwhile experience.

Father John Misty’s “new world of old characters”

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CW: death, suicide

For the last two years, Josh Tillman has been on a well-deserved break. He had released a concept album about his own love life (2015’s I Love You Honeybear), tackled the grandiose issues of mankind’s flaws and the breakdown of his own marriage (2017’s Pure Comedy and 2018’s God’s Favourite Customer respectively), written for both Beyoncé and Lady Gaga, and parodically covered Ryan Adams covering Taylor Swift in the style of the Velvet Underground. In 2020 he released a live album for Covid relief, an EP of covers, and a pair of singles. Then he disappeared.

Having deleted Instagram and Twitter during the God’s Favourite Customer release cycle, the artist better known by his pseudonym Father John Misty only re-emerged in 2022 with the announcement of Chloë and the Next 20th Century and its lead single, Funny Girl. Its lush strings and titular reference to the Streisand film evoke an Old Hollywood feel that is mirrored throughout the album, while its lyrics introduce the listener to a celebrity stalker and Tillman’s trademark lyrical style. 

The opening track introduces the eponymous shoplifting socialist Chloë with 1920’s orchestral flourishes and and subsequently has her kill herself as the music fades out; “summer ended on the balcony / she put on Flight of the Valkyries / at her 31st birthday party / took a leap into the autumn leaves.” It sets the tone for an eclectic mix of tragic storytelling and showcases the wide array of instrumentation provided by an 11-piece orchestra and a string quartet. Production duties are immaculately handled by long-time collaborator Jonathan Wilson; the band sound polished as ever and the orchestral touches only add to the sense of grandeur created by the imaginative and evocative lyrics.

Goodbye Mr. Blue deals with a failed relationship briefly brought back together through the death of their shared cat (“that Turkish Angora’s ’bout the only thing left of me and you”), retaining the tragedy of 2018’s piano ballad Just Dumb Enough to Try over an instrumental homage to Harry Nillson’s Everybody’s Talkin’. The narrator’s sadness at his own misfortune is exacerbated by his wish for the rekindling of their love through the cat dying earlier; “maybe if he’d gone sooner / could’ve brought us back together last June.” 

Another track concerning this recurring juxtaposition of love and death is We Could Be Strangers, in which Tillman opines “you’ll lose the one sooner or later / just being who you are.” The ‘love’ between the couple in the song is shown as futile, the pair are shown to be car crash victims “bleeding on the freeway” and in yet another darkly comedic lyric the narrator takes relief in the fact that “I never wanted to disappoint you / at least I’ll never even get the chance to.” 

In Kiss Me (I Loved You), the piano opening mirrors that of 2015’s I Love You Honeybear, but contrasts that song’s dreamy proclamations of love with a desperate hope to restart yet another doomed relationship. “Our dream / endеd like dreams do” and “love is much less a mystery / than who you give it to” show his ever-increasing cynicism, but complement 2015’s mariachi-infused Holy Shit and its own declaration that “love is just an economy based on resource scarcity.” In this way, the song brings Honeybear full circle, all the way to the end of the relationship. The tremolo on the vocal enhances the dream-like qualities of the song, while David Lynch’s accompanying cover is sung in character as a capuchin monkey named Jack Cruz. 

Buddy’s Rendezvous asks “whatever happened to the girl I knew?” over the by-now familiar mix of piano, strings and light brushes of drums that fit perfectly on Lana Del Rey’s cover; her version of the song would not be out of place on Blue Banisters or Norman Fucking Rockwell. Olvidado (Otro Momento), is bossa nova sung in Spanish, inspired by a trip to Brazil and a conversation in the wrong language. The album concludes with The Next 20th Century, a 6 minute long Leonard Cohen-esque return to form and finishes with the thought that “I’ll take the love songs / if this century’s here to stay.” After 51 minutes of a beautiful ode to doomed love, we can only feel the same.

The album is a sprawling delight, full of morbid ends to inconclusive love stories. Entertainment Weekly’s Leah Greenblack argues that “they feel less like songs than Paul Thomas Anderson movies compressed to six minutes or less,” and it is clear that Tillman has achieved the Hollywood ambitions hinted at in his debut album. Contrasted with Pure Comedy, it is less modern, less timely and much, much less political, but it introduces sparkling new stories and songs to fill the void left by the lack of social commentary. In Chloë and the Next 20th Century, Tillman succeeds spectacularly at creating a new world out of old characters.

Image Credit: Paul Hudson/CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Oxford nightline is open 8pm-8am, every night during term-time, for anyone struggling to cope and provide a safe place to talk where calls are completely confidential. You can call them on 01865 270 270, or chat at oxfordnightline.org. You can also contact Samaritans 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, by calling 116 123 or emailing [email protected]

Upcoming cultural events in Oxford

Croquet Cuppers

Season Two of Bridgerton has given me a newfound desire to grab life by the mallet, so this term I have decided to sign up for Croquet Cuppers. Is this because I believe that I could be a valuable addition to the team and lead my college to victory? No, of course not. My only experience playing croquet included getting so drunk on Pimms that I vomited on the side of the perfectly manicured lawn – any sport which includes a tacky chun is a winner in my book.

I have decided to sign up to Croquet Cuppers as I feel it could really benefit me personally. Not only is it one of the few sports in existence which I may have the athletic ability for – next to perhaps, chess or twister – but Bridgerton has also taught me that it is a great game to find a handsome man in a billowy shirt. As I approach the end of my second year, the three main Oxford goals – gaining a first, a spouse, and a Blue – are slipping further out of my grasp. Seeing as the first is pretty much a write-off I think croquet is quite possibly my only chance of ticking off the other two. So, I suppose I’d better give it my best shot.

By Lily Jones

May Day

Coming up in a few weeks is May Day, a unique Oxford event for which celebrations have occurred for over 1000 years (Slagel, 2020). The festivities mark the start of spring, and the coming of summer with a general atmosphere of festivity permeating the city. Events on May Day itself start at 6am with the choir singing from Magdalen tower, but celebrations continue through the morning with traditional Morris dancers in Radcliffe Square and the procession of a garlanded ox, to jazz band and sol samba performances (Healey, 2022).

Though the day occurs on May 1st, it is common for students to stay up through the evening, acting as an unusual end to a night of clubbing at Atik or O2, or following on from the Somerville-Jesus and LMH balls. This May Day also falls on a Sunday, allowing both students and Oxford residents to take part in the revelries. May Day is in fact particularly special in this regard, as an event in which both town and gown are united in celebrating, and in which traditions unique to the city of Oxford are venerated by all.

The physical May Day events have been cancelled for two consecutive years as a result of Covid-19, meaning it is a celebration the majority of Oxford’s undergraduates have never experienced before. Consequently, excitement is higher than ever this year, with the 2017 record of 27,000 spectators expected to be eclipsed (Slagel, 2020), so it is certainly not something that should be (or can be!) missed, and I urge all readers to join in the celebrations. Up the may!

By Isabella Elliott

The Oxford Medieval Mystery Cycle

Saturday 23rd April 2022, St Edmund Hall, 12:00pm – 17:00pm

Admission: Free

I stumbled across this intriguing albeit slightly strange event in a random Modern Languages faculty email, and the phrase ‘Medieval Mystery’ caught my attention. The premise of the event is a sort of theatrical retelling of the story of mankind with a series of plays performed by groups of Spanish, French, Italian, and German students and a number of MML lecturers around St Edmund Hall. As the faculty website states, “at noon the chapel bell will ring for Creation to commence in the Old Dining Hall. From there the story will unfold, with the Old Testament being acted out in the Front Quad and the New Testament in the churchyard around St Peter-in-the-East.” 

Although a slightly bizarre concept, these plays were a very popular form of drama in the Middle Ages– and what is more Oxford than desperately trying to hold onto tradition. If you enjoy theatre or story-telling and wish to fill a Saturday afternoon, this could be an ideal way to experience something a bit different as the audience will be asked to move around the college to see the various groups perform. Combining multilingualism and the medieval experience, this event could be the ideal way to start off a fun-filled Trinity. If your aim this term is to adopt a ‘say yes to everything’ mentality then look no further. Everyone is welcome and the event is free of charge.

By Elena Buccisano

Artwork by Wang Sum Luk

Whistler at the Musée d’Orsay: An American in Paris

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Roiling waters. Liberated waistlines. Crumbling palazzos. From his landscapes to portraits, James McNeil Whistler brings to the fore the equally haunting and mesmerizing beauty of natural movement. As the historic Frick Collection undergoes renovation, a collection of the artist’s masterworks takes residence at Musée d’Orsay in Paris from February 8 to May 8. For the first time ever, a varied selection of Whistler’s paintings, etchings, and watercolors are paired with Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1: Portrait of the Painter’s Mother (from Orsay’s main collection): the picture of American style with French sensibility.    

Length, Width, and Everything in Between

“I can’t tell you if genius is hereditary, because heaven has granted me no offspring.” While Whistler’s portrait subjects appear dated by hair styles and dress, it is perhaps the artist’s self-assured brushstrokes and attention to detail that allows for the subjects of his portraits to have a presence outside of time. 

Mrs. Frances Leyland in Symphony in Flesh Color and Pink rejects the corseted silhouette of the Victorian style and appears as natural as the blossoms of the almond tree that grows beside her. Whistler had a hand in every component of this work, from Mrs. Leyland’s tea gown to the frame that encases her. The monochromatic minimalism enables the viewer to enjoy the harmony of colors and shapes. It frees the eye from solely focusing on the image depicted on the canvas and gives way to the general aura exuded by Mrs. Leyland. Her elegance lives in the present; she is timeless. 

Composed Color

A melody with a tempo that escapes Victorian English and bourgeois French conventions: the correspondence between tones of color and textures of sound evidently guides Whistler’s brush. The studies for Nocturne in Blue and Silver: The Lagoon, Venice on display at Orsay indicate how the artist’s pursuit of formal harmonies prompted him to view people and settings as fluid as a song. In this sense, choice of color and tone reflects a worldview. 

Whistler’s body of work develops a harmony between the Aestheticism of the American Golden Age and the Realism of French artists such as Courbet and Manet. The exhibition hall in Orsay comes alive with the remarkably vital portraits of nineteenth century nobility, one of whom is Count Montesquiou, the inspiration for Baron de Charlus in Proust’s In Search of Lost Time. Whistler orchestrates a symphony of colors, symbols, and gestures that takes art beyond the canvas.

Image credits: James McNeill Whistler/Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

In Conversation with Cameron Saul

In our golden age of greenwashing, few fashion brands can claim to be both disruptive and genuinely ethical. Speaking to Cameron Saul, however, I am convinced that BOTTLETOP is one such brand.

Cameron is the co-founder of British luxury sustainable fashion brand BOTTLETOP, which originated through a design collaboration with the Mulberry fashion label in 2002. BOTTLETOP operates an atelier in Brazil, where they empower local artisans to sustainable livelihoods, and make accessories from waste and sustainably sourced materials – from upcycled ring pulls used to make the brand’s iconic chainmail design, to zero deforestation leather. The BOTTLETOP brand funds the BOTTLETOP Foundation, which empowers disadvantaged youth and their communities through vocational training and creative education projects that tackle issues such as HIV/AIDS, teenage pregnancy, and substance abuse. 

Cameron joins me via Zoom. As we begin talking, I am struck by how open, engaged and personable he is. Cameron’s passion for creativity, sustainability, and the brand that he has built is refreshing and contagious; he is a man on a mission.

Cameron’s father, Roger Saul, is the man behind Mulberry. He confesses that this is where the interest in fashion began. “It was inescapable in my family. Dad’s passion for creating beautiful, special things that would carry meaning for people was always something that was infectious…Nothing was not discussed over the kitchen table. [Mulberry] was a proper family business from that perspective.”

Through the original BOTTLETOP bags that Cameron and his father launched together in 2002, Cameron became convinced of the efficacy of business as a tool for impact. “Even at that super early time and even before people were having conversations about sustainable design or using business as a tool for impact, it was already immediately clear to me and my Dad that fashion could play a really powerful role in both empowering people economically through the creation of those bags…but also in cleaning the environment through the waste materials we were using, raising money to support creative education projects, and acting as a tool for advocacy.” 

Cameron maintains that prior to this collaboration, fashion social enterprises were exceedingly rare; there was a gap between poorly designed products released by the charity sector and big fashion brands that occasionally raised and donated money. “What we did with BOTTLETOP was effectively bridge all of that through a concept that was about truly beautiful design made by vulnerable people in challenging circumstances…Everything we’ve done since has built on that blueprint of using design to drive impact.”

“Because we were back in 2002 and no one was really thinking of using business in that way, my father and I decided to register BOTTLETOP as a UK charity, rather than set it up as a company. For the next 10 years we spent our time working to fundraise through the sale of the artisanal products that we developed, but also by putting together high-level contemporary art exhibitions, auctions, and music.” As part of this fundraising, they produced an album series that led them to Brazil. There, they happened across the technique of recycled ring pulls crocheted together – which would become BOTTLETOP’s signature design – and began working with local artisans in Salvador to create the initial designs. 

As time went on, the evolution of both consumer consciousness and technology gave new impetus to “different production techniques” and “wanting to play with different recyclable materials.” This, Cameron said, ultimately formed the basis of the #TOGETHERBAND campaign, which was launched in partnership with the United Nations Foundation in 2019. 

Each #TOGETHERBAND bracelet represents one of the UN’s 17 Global Goals and are handmade in Nepal by a collective of women who have been rescued from human trafficking. The bracelets are made from upcycled marine plastic waste and decommissioned illegal firearms. Designing this campaign to feature “more accessible products like friendship bands” which could “act as a tool for advocacy,” particularly as consumer consciousness continues to evolve, was important to Cameron. 

Yet despite a huge shift in environmental awareness and consumer consciousness in recent years, fast fashion brands continue to grow. We venture into a discussion about the tension between growing social consciousness and capitalist profit-seeking, overproduction, and overconsumption. What is Cameron’s hope for the future of fashion in an era of microtrends and fast fashion? “For me, the hope is that there will continue to be more and more awesome new brands that are delivering real solutions, that there will be more and more investment going into the development of leading-edge sustainable materials, and that the pressure on high street brands to incorporate those materials into their collections is somehow manifested. 

“Fast fashion is ultimately flawed. We just know it shouldn’t be possible for things to cost that little. It’s people in the supply chain and the planet that are ultimately paying the price. So, I would love to think that [fast fashion brands] are just going to go out of business because people continue to awaken, but I don’t think that’s really the case. I think the best we can do is hope to find ways to coexist with them, where there’s such a level of awareness that people aren’t choosing them as much as possible, but also that those brands are forced to have a product offering that resonates with an increasingly aware consumer base.”

As we move towards a sustainable future, Cameron hopes that young people will continue to be vocal, ask questions, and demand change. “I think the reason we’ve seen such powerful shifts in the climate space is because particularly young people have started to unashamedly voice their opinions and demand accountability. 

“I would always encourage people to ask the tough questions of brands that they love and would want to see improving, and for everyone to use their actual voice and their digital voice to make noise.”

“We need to continue to build community,” Cameron says as we part, “both in the real world and the digital universe that we all now inhabit, to really drive things collectively.” 

Image Credit: BOTTLETOP/Facebook

Raging against the dying of the light: what the DUP’s predicament tells us about the state of unionism in Northern Ireland

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All is not well for the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), the current overall largest political party in Northern Ireland’s legislative assembly, both in terms of vote share and seats. Since 2004, the DUP – which regards itself as Northern Ireland’s and Unionism’s leading political protector against internal and external challengers has occupied a pre-eminent position electorally within the Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist (PUL) community. Despite its opposition to the 1998 Good Friday Agreement (GFA), which its PUL rival the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP) helped pass, the DUP has benefited strongly from the electoral provisions that the GFA accorded. It has been a party of government in Northern Ireland’s consociational administration, Stormont, since 2007, where the electoral system can reward in-group appeals and hard-line positions. By capitalising on these embedded rewards, the DUP has thus far successfully squeezed out the UUP and the smaller Unionist and Loyalist political parties with no clear challenger to its intra-Unionist dominance.

But on 5th May 2022, when Northern Ireland goes to the polls to elect representatives to its legislature, the DUP is expected to have its long shadow over Northern Irish politics substantially shortened. Polls have consistently shown the party’s leader – Sir Jeffery Donaldson – as the most unpopular of the Northern Irish political leaders, and the party has been embattled by resurgent intra-community political rivals. The more existential worry for the party, and for elements of PUL community more broadly, is the distinct possibility that Sinn Fein, the largest political party within Catholic/Nationalist/Republican (CNR) communities, will become Northern Ireland’s largest overall political party. This would mark the first time that a CNR political party, and a party whose expressed goal is Irish Unification and the removal of Northern Ireland as a political entity, would be in the electoral driving seat. Not only is the future of the DUP’s predominance at stake, but so is, in the eyes of the party and for sections of Unionism, the future of Northern Ireland’s six counties of Antrim, Armagh, Down, Fermanagh, (London)Derry, and Tyrone.

Squeezed Out: How the DUP Ended up Here

The DUP’s recent predicament, one largely of its own making, has not emerged overnight. Rather, it appears to be the culmination of perceived failures at the community level to improve the mainly working-class areas that it represents, despite its longevity in government. These feelings of being left behind have erupted sporadically, notably during the ‘flag protests’ of 2012 in response to a perceived negation of PUL identity through the removal of the Union Flag above Belfast Hall. Though instances like these are often characterised as knee-jerk reactions to greater inclusion of the historically marginalised  CNR community, they also belie real feelings within many working-class communities that they have been abandoned by both their political leadership and the Peace Process more generally. Indeed, the DUP’s tenure in government has seen continued socioeconomic deprivation and stagnation within working-class PUL communities. Protestant boys have the lowest education achievement rates in Northern Ireland, and working-class PUL communities have significantly fewer community and youth centres available than their CNR counterparts. Furthermore, whilst certainly not exclusive to PUL communities, prevailing issues around generational unemployment, low-wage work, narcotics abuse, and rising suicide rates raise questions around existing political leadership.

Yet these trends have been present for decades. What then explains the DUP’s sudden embattlement now? The answer can be found in the Northern Irish Protocol, or more accurately, what the Northern Irish Protocol represents for the future of Northern Ireland. The DUP gambled by whole-heartedly supporting Brexit, but the outcomes have backfired somewhat spectacularly. Hypothetically, Brexit not only complemented the party’s wider worldview of British nationalism and Euroscepticism, but also appeared to be an opportunity to safeguard the Union with Britain by entrenching the existing Irish border. Britain has left the European Union (EU), but by attempting to protect trade and free movement across the United Kingdom’s only land-border with the EU, the customs border has been in effect moved from within Ireland to the Irish Sea. For many Unionists, and particularly Northern Irish Loyalists, composed of primarily Protestant working-class communities, this marks the beginning of the slipperiest of slopes: the firing of a starting pistol to a United Ireland.

This is by no means a distant threat. If  demographers are correct in their expectations, the 2021 Census results will reveal Catholics have overtaken Protestants as the largest group in Northern Ireland for the first time. Increased population size for the Catholic community is not to say that Nationalist and Republican parties will dominate, or that Catholicism in Northern Ireland maps uniformly to political parties and constitutional views, or that Northern Ireland will disappear overnight (or even at all), but it does represent a seismic shift for a region founded as “a Protestant government for a Protestant people”. What is more, Sinn Fein continues to succeed electorally in both the Republic of Ireland, where it is currently the second largest party, and Northern Ireland, where it is predicted to become the largest party. Conversations around a united Ireland are being held with renewed vigour including in Irish political circles beyond the political mainstream, increasing feelings of tension and apprehension amongst some within the PUL community about where Northern Ireland’s political future lies.

The intersection of these two dynamics has resulted in increased pressure on the DUP by other forces within the PUL community, with the potential to significantly disrupt Northern Irish politics. At one end of the spectrum, the DUP faces a political challenge from the resurgent Ulster Unionist Party (UUP), which risks outflanking it as a credible alternative leader for the PUL community. For the UUP, the sole party of government from the country’s inception in 1921 until the suspension of Stormont and the establishment of direct rule from Westminster in 1998, this election offers the promise of recapturing lost ground. In recent years, the party – under the leadership of Doug Beatie – has attempted to reverse its decline in Westminster and Stormont by positioning itself as a softer, more liberal alternative within the PUL community. A party, in its own view, committed to pragmatic governance, not divisive cultural ‘orange and green’ wars (increased appeals to the ethno-nationalist blocs at the expense of other policies and issues). It remains to be seen if the UUP can dent the DUP substantially. At time of writing (17/04/22) the DUP remains the expected largest PUL party overall. A slew of misogynistic and racist historical tweets have damaged Beatie’s liberal image, and as the election looms closer, the ‘orange card’ which the DUP has historically benefited from has been increasingly played by a DUP with its back against the ropes.

Meanwhile, the DUP has also been drawn into a hard-fought battle with the smaller Loyalist parties, vying to be the voice of loyalism and the dominant PUL party in working-class areas. This challenge has most noticeably come from the Traditional Unionist Voice (TUV) party. The TUV, a splinter from the DUP, broke from the party in 2007 following the DUP’s power-sharing agreement with Sinn Fein (historically the political wing of the Provisional IRA), something the TUV regards as a red line. The TUV is to the DUP what the latter once was to the UUP: an intra-unionist rival able to outbid the party on its right. The TUV has campaigned hard on the intertwined issues of the Irish Sea Border and the Northern Irish Protocol, forcing the DUP into the challenging situation of both positioning itself as an opposition party and simultaneously being a party of government. The TUV, which currently only has one assembly member – its leader Jim Allister – is certainly feeling confident. It has experienced comparatively high polling figures and is for the first time standing candidates in all 18 electoral districts. The TUV may not take any seats in May, but its presence as a party pushes  the DUP further to the political extremes. This may drive more moderate voters away or into the arms of other parties, while forcing the DUP to fight rear-guard actions in its working-class heartlands, characterised by growing intransigence to cross-community politics and hard-line, immovable positions on Loyalist issues.  

More concerning has been the DUP’s vulnerability to a progressively assertive and political Loyalist paramilitarism. Despite officially being on ceasefire, Loyalist paramilitary groups have retained a significant presence in sections of working-class PUL communities, particularly those with elevated levels of socioeconomic deprivation and a paramilitary legacy dating from the 1969-1998 conflict (known to many as ‘The Troubles’). While these groups post-ceasefire have often been regarded more as criminal enterprises than paramilitaries in the conventional Northern Irish sense, they have been increasingly politically vocal following the establishment of the Loyalist Communities Council (LCC) in 2015. This represents the three main Loyalist paramilitary organisations: the Ulster Defence Association (UDA), the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF), and Red Hand Commando (RHC). In March 2021, the LCC announced its members were withdrawing their support for the Good Friday Agreement. The same month marked the beginning of Northern Ireland’s worst rioting within PUL areas in several years, with one reason for the youth mobilisation (among others, such as socioeconomic and cultural difficulties sparked by the closure of schools and youth services during COVID lockdowns) being the Northern Irish Protocol. Calls by DUP representatives to stop the violence went ignored, raising questions about the ability of the party to diffuse tensions within communities. 

Shortly before their withdrawal from the GFA, LCC representatives met members of the DUP in a closed meeting, a growing indication of paramilitary pressure on the party. As the demands of the LCC and its members for a political removal of the Northern Irish Protocol look increasingly less likely, Loyalist paramilitaries have significantly increased acts of violence. In 2021 there was a spate of bus hijackings and burnings by the so-called Protestant Action Force, thought to be a cover-name by at least some elements of the UVF. This violence  escalated in late March, with the Irish Foreign Minister  Simon Coveney being targeted at an event in North Belfast. A van hijacked off the PUL enclave of the Shankhill Road was driven to an event at which Coveney was speaking, with hoax claims of a bomb being on board. The PSNI are investigating UVF links to the incident, and there are concerns that further Irish politicians could be targeted or that attacks could be escalated . It seems unlikely, given the DUP’s current weak position and limited options for removing the Protocol and fomenting a practical alternative, that politically violent Loyalist paramilitary activity will be curtailed. The DUP is hemmed in on both sides by forces which appear to be chipping away at the grip the party has over its base.

The Future of Political Unionism and Northern Irish Politics

May’s election will likely result in a wounded, but not dead, DUP – one that is still the largest PUL political party, but which has lost overall to Sinn Fein. At a Loyalist anti-Protocol rally in Markethill, Belfast in February, DUP MP Sammy Wilson was booed and heckled by the assembled audience over the party’s failure to rescind the Protocol. Faced with this backlash the DUP looks set to continue doing what has resulted in previous electoral dividends: increasing its attractiveness to a subset of the PUL community through increased tribune appeals. This will likely manifest itself in an ever more siloed Northern Irish political system, with cross-community politics suffering as a response. Indeed, this looks to have already begun. In February, the DUP’s Paul Givan, Northern Ireland’s First Minister, announced his resignation from his position. In doing so, he effectively collapsed Stormont, which requires both communities – nationalist and unionist – to share power at the executive level. Ostensibly, the DUP’s stated reason for Givan’s resignation was the failure to revoke the Northern Irish Protocol. More likely was the backwards slide of the DUP within intra-PUL polling and perceived vulnerability to other Loyalist groupings within working-class communities, particularly the TUV.

Sinn Fein are the bookies’ favourite to be the largest party in the assembly after the dust of 5th May has settled. The question, therefore, is what the DUP will do after it has lost its coveted First Minister position, and how (if at all) it will govern in symbolic subordination to Sinn Fein. There are strong pressures on the DUP’s leadership, from both inside and outside the party, to boycott Stormont in such a situation. This will not only anger a nationalist community which feels that it has played by the political system’s rules, but will also significantly hamper the day-to-day running of Northern Ireland.

Northern Ireland faces plenty of problems that go beyond one community or another and effective cross-community leadership is desperately needed. But times are changing in Northern Ireland. Regardless of what happens with Sinn Fein, ambitions for a United Ireland will likely increase over the coming years if current trends hold. There will be plenty more challenges for PUL politics in the near future, both at the community level and beyond. If PUL representatives fail to find a way of living with this new reality, they risk destruction.

Artwork by Ben Beechener

Battle of the vintage fashion eras

Anna: Y2K

Love it or hate it, you have to admit that Y2K fashion is absolutely iconic. From chic slip dresses to not-at-all-chic but absolutely stylish cargo pants, this era has got it all. Beyond the personal significance of this era to our age group, who grew up with diamanté tees and Ugg boots, Y2K fashion feels incredibly vital and endlessly creative. What other era could pair the absolute weirdness of a nonsensical slogan tee with the ageless glamour of an elegant kitten heel in one outfit?

But the feature of the Y2K era which tops it all off, even if it seems a bit like cheating, is its recourse to vintage style inspiration itself. If you are a fan of flares, you don’t need to go back to the 70s for them – you can find flares from the noughties. If you want an eighties workwear-chic look without the disturbing shoulder-pad silhouette, you only have to reach for a Y2K tailored waistcoat. And if you have just finished your Bridgerton binge, look no further back than the noughties to find a beautiful cropped corset top. Y2K fashion may be in right now, but it is infinitely timeless. 

Yuri: 2010s 

Maybe it’s too soon to call the 2010s a ‘vintage fashion era’, but our hyper-exposed generation has hurried fashion’s 20-year-rule to deem Bella Swan and Elena Gilbert-core stylish once more. As someone who was a teenager in the 2010s, I look at that decade of fashion as loud and confusing – how on Earth did grunge and athleisure co-exist on the runway? My own styling choices of pairing Abercrombie zip-ups with red jeans and combat boots were questionable (horrific) and I still refuse to look back at pictures from my early teenage years to this day. 

But wedge sneakers and drop-crotch harem pants aside, the 2010s was still a revolutionary decade for fashion in that it changed the culture of the industry forever. Thanks to Instagram, the world was now your runway: streetwear dominated fashion week and music festivals (Coachella!!) became a boho paradise. Internet subcultures proliferated, and your personal style became a reflection of who or what you followed online. All in all, it was the chaos of the 2010s that made it such a messy but vibrant and memorable decade for fashion, and I am very curious to see which trends become timeless or remain discarded. 

Madi: 1970s

Despite being the recent victim of a rather lukewarm revival (anyone remember the micro-season of afghan coats, patterned flares, and crochet?), the 1970s is – let’s be real – criminally underrated, sandwiched as it was between the 60s counterculture revolution involving the revelation of the knees and the bright, bouffant exuberance of the 80s, and far too often reduced to disco and drip-dry. Now, I myself am partial to non-iron fabrics, glitter, and flares; my very favourite piece of clothing is a pair of orange ‘Sta-Prest’ Levis – about as typical of the decade as you can get.

But as a decade, the 70s was an utterly unique melting pot of influences, if you only stray a little from the beaten track. The same ten years which witnessed the birth of British punk also saw in (and out) the debutante-chic Sloane Ranger, in her pearls and piecrust collars (think pre-princess Di), as well as the gender-bending innovations of glam and glitter rock – and that’s only scratching the subculture surface. The past, too, echoed loudly throughout the decade, from the Edwardian revival, spearheaded by Laura Ashley’s delicate floral-print prairie dresses (similar to what we might now call cottagecore) to Barbara Hulanecki’s Biba brand, the entire aesthetic of which was heavily influenced by the crisp elegance of the starlets of 1930s Hollywood. It was an era which encompassed an incredibly wide and divergent variety of trends and anti-trends – and which deserves love for so much more than flares and flowers! 

Image Credit: PINKE / CC BY-NC 2.0 via flickr

“My wardrobe is not the most cohesive”: Exploring non-binary fashion

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With the ever-increasing accessibility of new trends and decreasing pressure to adhere to conventions, fashion is becoming less gendered. Even runway shows such as Gucci and Thom Browne are no longer divided by gender, demonstrating how the growing understanding of gender as a construct is changing the industry. Although the lines between masculine and feminine clothing are slowly but surely blurring, the idea of non-binary or androgynous fashion feels more confusing. Although the two are actually quite different concepts, non-binary fashion and the idea of masculinity and femininity cannot be disconnected, even though the term non-binary seems relatively self-explanatory.

Personally, I find that combining feminine and masculine fashion is different from non-binary fashion and it is important to make that distinction. There is a disconnect between the two binaries and what lies outside them. Simply looking at red carpets (the epitome of couture, of course) would imply there is not a broad spectrum of the expression of masculinity: suit, after suit, after suit. Creative expression of femininity appears easier with a wider range of pieces, but is this primarily because of the rigidity of the idea of masculinity and the relative variety of feminine concepts. For me, I feel androgyny is an existence without the performance of masculinity or femininity rather than a combination of both.

As someone whose gender feels more like a question mark, my wardrobe is not the most cohesive. Sometimes I enjoy the concept of hyper-femininity, but my attempts feel uncomfortable and stilted. Expressing an existence through a combination of masculine and feminine ideas runs parallel to my experience with non-gendered fashion; I can use big silhouettes, interesting patterns, prints, and colour combinations to draw perception away from who I am and instead to what I’m wearing. It’s more comfortable but it’s not about me. If gender is a performance and I don’t perform, then surely the binary doesn’t apply? At this current point in time, I feel it is near impossible to separate gender from fashion – I don’t think society or the audience could allow it, even if fashion is influenced by changing contemporary ideas of gender. But designers such as Juun J and Thom Browne are making progress in pushing this field within the industry, consistently creating collections that look and feel genderless.

Juun J’s Fall 2016 collection was shown at the Pitti Uomo, during the highlight of menswear fashion week. Nevertheless, he stated in an interview that the intention behind the collection was to be unrestricted by “regular notions such as gender, boundary, era”. He considered both men and women whilst designing, but somehow created clothing that wasn’t representative of one gender or another: the turtlenecks emblazoned with “GENDERLESS” are a not-so-subtle example. Unfortunately, the entire collection was worn by male models, which I suppose is unsurprising, and the location, too, was disappointing: maybe the collection could have been more easily perceived as genderless had it not been shown at Pitti Uomo, with images of the clothes on invisible models instead. The clothes themselves were stunning, with the concepts and styles repeated enough that the forty looks were cohesive but still distinct and varied. The leather jacket of the tenth look was cut above the chest, creating an ultra-cropped silhouette, which was beautiful and felt like an incredible example of what could be considered genderless or non-binary fashion. 

Thom Browne is another interesting designer for exploring non-binary fashion, especially considering his brand’s focus on tailoring. His garments, although corporate, feel distant from strict gender conformity; his suiting feels divorced from the masculine-presenting suits of aspirational, alpha-male finance workers, DJs, and red carpets, and the pleated skirts are a far cry from the MiuMiu micro-mini. The collection feels slightly surreal, as he manages to separate extremely feminine pieces such as a pannier (sidehoops worn by women in the 17thand 18th centuries that created a wider silhouette for the hips) from the intended gender of the wearer. Returning to the changes in gendered fashion, it makes sense: the period of the pannier also saw men wearing heels, something now seen as feminine. His skirts do not feel feminine as skirts so often do, but seem like a powerful option for anyone to wear to the office. And yet despite the apparent absence of gender in his clothing, he produces gendered performances in his shows. Robin Givhan wrote about Browne’s Spring 2020 collection that it was “profoundly sad to see his models made powerless” through his unfortunate “habit of feeding that whimsy by transforming women into props”. It is interesting to consider that despite the absence of gender  in his garments, the presentation was still gender-performative. Comparing the Spring 2020 collection with the same year’s Fall/Winter one seems to demonstrate a rapid development, however, as this was the first co-ed show the house put on: the models walked down the runway in twos, side by side in identical looks, with no visual differences between the menswear and womenswear.

If only I could afford these clothes. I find it so difficult to do formal wear, making Oxford – with its absurd amount of traditions and fancy, formal events – a difficult place to be sometimes. I attended my first ball this year and was unsurprisingly underprepared for it. Saved only by my friend’s black velvet dress and one-day delivery, I still had to scramble for shoes. I own two pairs of heels: a pair of Mary Janes and a pair of low slingbacks. The combination of the dress and shoes was not something I had considered; I settled on the slingback heels but there was still something unsettling about it. The instability was expected, with all my weight balanced on two tiny points, but what I didn’t expect was to feel like I was acting, performing the role of a pretty lady without having  read the script. That’s not to say I don’t like wearing feminine outfits: one of my favourite pieces is a red mesh dress with a  frilly collar and puffy sleeves – not exactly void of gender. But I’ve never worn anything but dresses to formals, as though I have a subconscious belief that androgyny and formality don’t align. I’m not really sure of my other options. I don’t like wearing suits: school blazers, skirts, and trousers made sure of that. But formality and evening wear seem to end there,  and maybe that’s the reason why I still don’t own any proper evening dresses. I don’t know what I want or what I feel comfortable in. Though I still own and enjoy skirts, the days on which I look at myself and feel comfortable in them are dwindling. My own discomfort  probably stems from the idea of performing, but I want to believe that clothes don’t have a gender. Feminine and masculine qualities, yes, but can we dress outside of these ideas?

It’s a near-universal experience of having those off-days where nothing I put on feels right, and it’s so frustrating, given that I use clothing as a form of expression, of control over my identity, to feel as though the slipper doesn’t fit. It is an  abstract concept whose self-imposed rubric I still don’t understand, and yet I write about it, I make it a hobby, and I hope that it shapes people’s perception of me as I intended. People’s stereotypes and associations with certain items of clothing are prone to be personal, moulded from their own ideas of gender and fashion. Clothing is one of the most intimate yet visual aspects of ourselves, and I can only selfishly hope that gender in fashion becomes less polarised until my wardrobe can exist within a grey area where I finally feel comfortable.

Image Credit: John Gurinsky / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 via flickr