Morgan May

Category: Writing

  • How will Good ever beat a bloody good Victim?

    How will Good ever beat a bloody good Victim?

    This week, I saw a woman leave an overall friendly Facebook group, because a handful of people were offended with a word in a question she posted and had picked it to pieces. So, she announced with much flourish and emotion that now she too was offended with the overall vibe of the group was was flouncing out of the room to share her thoughts elsewhere. wow.

    These days you can read any social media post, or indeed news article and find someone who takes offence with it, disagrees with it and shares that feeling. So often, in life and on the internet when someone throws a line out like “she’s a narcissist” or “she’s a loose woman” we act like it’s a permanent sticker. Instead of saying the person who said it is the person with the bad personality or a spiteful mouth or quite often just a little person being a bully. At best we could say they are ‘having a bad day’ perhaps.

    Blaming the victim – Being the victim, wearing the labels they throw at us, these are all ways that a the bad guys from psychopaths, narcissists to garden variety bullies get away with it, and we let them. We help them silence their victims, and turn the victims into the perpetrator. 

    It’s this same ideology that lets bad leaders not only win, but carry on winning, it’s that same ideology that contributes to widening inequality, more mildly referred to as the ‘cost of living crises’. 

    Let’s all do our best to be rubber, not glue, and ask more questions about who is doing what to whom. 

  • This is the house that Jill built

    This is the house that Jill built

    When you think about building a house or a home what kind of images of white pretty houses surrounded by picket fences might spring to mind? or perhaps your vision is a double story brick house.  Or maybe the more ambitious think of Provencal mansions by sea … and then or perhaps the mind turns to interiors. The sofa, the wall colours, maybe you like herringbone floorboards or plush white carpets.  Bathrooms with steam showers and walk in wardrobes. 

    Much like those renovation or house building shows on TV, the story ends, the success is had when the house is built, the décor has been installed, the pillows fluffed and fresh flowers and a cheese board rests on the kitchen bench. A vanilla candle burns somewhere.  What happens after that ?

    I had a home that I had put effort into décor wise, with what I could afford, and with things I had spent a lot of time searching for, that were beautiful but not necessarily expensive.  I said what surrounds me matters, I don’t like things to be ugly, it doesn’t have to be flashy or slick or even new, but there should be a level of care in the way it’s put together, it should feel warm and cosy, things matching or artfully mismatched. Old good quality things that are rustic and authentic instead of new and cheap or just worn out.  Orderly clutter conceals things that can’t be fixed, a preference over the look of sparseness. Minimalism is different to ‘not enough; it’s all in the type of layout.   I had a home that I built with hope, with dreams and borrowed money, with generosity towards myself and my new baby, so the love would surround her in every way. 

    What is often forgotten is the house you build with the company you keep, the habits you give energy to, the words you use and of course your thoughts. I wonder sometimes of the power of thoughts because I have met some wonderfully negative and jealous people who have built lives for themselves that outwardly seem fantastic.  Perhaps though, the house they really live in doesn’t extend to the material world, the house you really live in is in your mind. You hang the wallpaper, design the pattern on the curtains, choose to see only the good, somehow repel the troublemakers, the negativity bearers, the liars, the firemen and women who waterboard you with their jealousy and feast on the schadenfreude when you trip and fall. 

    The world we live in is much like a house, the biggest share house ever. We try to ignore or remove the housemates who steal our food from the fridge, set fire to the kitchen and raid our bedrooms for our treasures. We are sometimes initially enthralled by those larger-than-life characters who seemed to promise entertainment and lightness when we first met them, but soon you realise it’s mostly a façade and they are unreliable and honestly, just between us, more trouble than they are worth.  Then there are the ones promising to help, to make the world better, they say they have best of intentions, without really specifying what it is they intend to happen. And of course, that’s because they have no intention of actually helping you or the world, their actual intention is that you can’t see them stabbing you in the back while they help themselves to your life.

    So, when I think about building a house these days, me and the world we live in should both think beyond the bricks and mortar, soft furnishings and Italian made lamps.  To not accept a house viewed through a filter, a house that looks real, but is really just a curtain painted with the picture of house covering a broken reality.  To give long and hard consideration to the words we use, the words we want to hear, the actions we want to receive, the energy we give out and how we share the resources we have amongst us, whilst also taking a long hard look to how we work alongside each other so that everyone has not just a seat at the table, but a full plate of food too. 

  • How to be French, beyond croissants and berets…

    Vive La France! Another article about croissants and the strolls by the Seine? No. The country that hosts Paris, wine, cheese, luxury bags, a famous Riviera and countless other blessings that are both natural and man-made. When you come to France to live, as a native English speaker, you can be just that and live here, observing always the way ‘they’ do things while you star in your own living in France dream, and admire and sometimes cuss the differences. Or you can also dive in deeper beyond the cliché’s about carrying a baguette while wearing a stripy top and red lipstick and understand how the big things behind France’s culture that give rise to the little things that make it just so.   

    There is a certain type of Anglo-Saxon culture, where anything that costs more than nothing is ‘expensive’ you must spend as little as possible as there is apparently a limited supply of everything. The French pioneered the metiers that create beautiful things with using deep, irreplaceable expertise in artisan production methods in art, fashion, food. The cliché of the French woman’s wardrobe having three items hanging it is not such an exaggeration.  They buy well-made clothes at a reasonable price mostly and wear it regularly. France does not have it’s own answer to a Zara or a Next or Forever21. That’s not to say that there are not small shops selling cheap clothes and items for the home. Local market often fills this gap as well, with thousands of iterations of Isabel Marant being sold for less than 20 euros.  

    ‘British manners rule the world’ said Mohammed al Fayad in the last season of The Crown. Manners were designed to be a social lubricant, social cohesion, a way for all of us to live alongside and have relationships and do business leaving the other person feeling good for it. The philosopher David Hume and the author Henry Hitchings defined them as “a kind of lesser morality, calculated for the ease of company and conversation” and spoke of the “companionable virtues of good manners and wit, decency and genteelness”. In other words, these are virtues that sit well together and enable us to sit well together. They are not a form of self-abnegation, but instead lubricants of sociability”.  But they also used to disguise deceitful behaviour, to manipulate and to gaslight those who may speak up. Manners are frequently used to silence victims and whistle-blowers. In fact, in polite society there never is a victim is there, it was all her own fault. 

    Anglo Saxons crow endlessly about rules holding back business, and themselves. Liz Truss in the UK “underlined the importance of growth to the UK economy by linking it to the need to cut taxes…slash regulation, boost investment, and improve public services”.  The much-derided rules and regulations in France exist for a reason. They are one of the reasons French productivity is high despite working less hours. The rules stop time being wasted on misleading offers. Chasing up being ripped off, providing restitution to customers after trying to rip them off, all eats into productivity. If you can’t work within the rules, which exist to benefit everyone, are you even running a business? Or are you essentially a giant egocentric three-year-old steamroller-ing over everyone around you? 

    In France, the culture of revolution exists to protect the ordinary person from the interest of the  1% from creeping into everything like Ivy.  French people protect their rights to time – which is at its core the true essence of life and is more precious than money.  They see going to the gym to undo 50 hours of sitting as a false economy, they have time to walk to work or play in the park with their kids.  The work from home ‘revolution’ was already in place, and with many kids at home all or half days’ on Wednesdays the family has time to do activities, cook and relax together. 

    The Anglo Saxons seek to minimise and avoid taxes wherever possible. Is it a deep-seated lack of respect for the government that drives it (they who seek to enforce those dreaded ‘rules’ should just stay out of my business!), a culture that puts the individual at the centre of the universe, which, sitting at the French table, reflects a lack of respect for your fellow man. The French pay social charges, in addition to taxes, and to avoid paying them is socially unacceptable. Everyone contributes for the benefit of everyone because they are a community and a society. 

    As observed in Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction…. when you go overseas, it’s the little things. Like over here, when you go into a shop, people greet you and you are expected to greet them.  There’s no expectation of engaging into a deeper conversation or indeed frivolous disingenuous conversation that will lead to a purchase, it’s not a sales tactic, just pure civility. A connected society, one person acknowledging or welcoming the other into their store or presence

    The bus maybe crowded but people are considerate of those around them. No one needs to be told to let people of the train first, they just do it, it’s common sense. Women are people. Not sex objects, not free home help, not child bearers. They are all those things and still people. 

    Want to get a house in France? You need The ‘Dossier’. If you thought it was only something spy agencies collected on their targets, you’re mistaken. It lives and breathes in France as a pile of papers to verify who you are, what you have, where you come from and tell us what you’re likely to be like, what you represent, what kind of space you take up in the world, in this very much a society. The dossier probably has a history going back a hundred years or more right, when everything was on paper, and letters of recommendation were common place to even open a bank account. In fact, the modern dossier requires a guarantor, effectively a letter of recommendation in the form of someone putting actual money where their pen was and guaranteeing they will pay your rent if they don’t. Who has these kinds of friends or family? 

    Modern technology comes to France with their startups and great ideas, and the Guarantee is now ‘disrupted’ so that anyone with an appropriate amount of money can remove that hurdle. So, you have some money but no person to guarantee, who are you? You’re an individual. Unencumbered, untethered and unaccountable to anyone but yourself. You can do anything you want. Except rent a property unless a startup is willing to back you. 

    So that’s what it is, a part of being French. Learning verbs and being connected and accountable. 

    And the other thing about France and being French is that it’s not a noun, it’s a verb. Very much a verb. It’s more than the passport and the language, the food and fashion.  It’s taking the time to get dressed before going out of your bedroom even. We wear loungewear at home, not pyjamas, and proper pants or an outfit even to the supermarket, because we live in a society and other people have to look at you. We never snack between meals; we have breakfast and then never ever get hungry before 12.00 which is lucky because no restaurant kitchens are open before then. Likewise, that meal better be good because there’s nothing till dinner at no earlier than 7.30pm. 

    Everything is old to look out. You can jump, with English speaking world arrogance, to the conclusion that its somehow not as good as at home. But it is, it’s actually better. Cities AND people in France are allowed to age and still be valuable. 

  • ELLE on Earth | Observer

    How a leading women’s magazine ruined a once-in-a-lifetime interview with fashion legend Rei Kawakubo.

    Source: ELLE on Earth | Observer

  • Adventures

    When I was four years old, the centre my universe was on the corner of Bradford Street and Centre road, where anything could happen. For instance, brushing my teeth was a true source of achievement and I took it very seriously, perhaps because according to my parents, I was the girl with the whitest teeth on Centre road (which runs about 15km!). Saturdays’ until dusk were spent riding my bike up and down Bradford street with little Billy and Emma from next door and Phillip and his brother from down the end of the street, they were the older kids that also had a pool in their yard and Tammy and her older sister from across road. The day was full of stopping to inspect the front yards of the neighbors we didn’t know, playing hopscotch, street cricket and even jacks. Does anyone remember jacks? The end of the street turned into another and had a large green fence with barbed wire that was the boundary of the golf course. The end of that street also represented the boundary of our world on bikes according to our parents. We never knew why exactly, and we took it seriously. Until one day when I didn’t and trundled down the street alongside that large fence and around the next corner and then next one. The houses down there sort of looked the same, just a bit darker and a bit more mysterious.. and one had a jungle garden that totally needed to be explored. I got off my bike and strode on in. There were cool flowers I hadn’t seen before. A giant ceramic frog. A pond. With fish in it! I heard a sound behind me and a man was there. I think he had white hair but I can’t be sure because while he was probably only wondering what I was doing there, I was running for my life. All of 8 steps out of the front yard and on to my bike. By now of course it was pretty much dark and by the time I rode home, and of course I got lost as I had gone so far, I was in big trouble. No bike for Maryanne for quite a while after that.

     

     

     

    A few years later, we moved. Our new back yard was adventure itself. There were grape vines hanging overhead on trellises near the back door, beyond that strawberry plants overflowed their beds. A bungalow right at the back of the yard was filled with someone else’s bric-a-brac; the most interesting kind. Oddly, an old blacked out incinerator filled the other back corner that led to a lane and the veggie patch.

     

    The centerpiece of the yard was the lemon tree. It had alter like status in the middle of the yard, on a raised square of plush green grass, hand rolled out in green velvety rolls when we first moved in. I hadn’t been allowed to walk on it, because otherwise the grass wouldn’t take if it were stepped on. So the lemon tree had been off limits, but now, the grass was thriving and the tree was mine to conquer. I gazed up at the tree and debated internally how I would approach it. Its trunk was pale and mottled, but it was smooth. A shoulder height solid branch jutted out, and lemons dangled way above my head, with a clear blue sky as their canvas. I hoisted myself up to the first branch and sat on it triumphantly. From there, going up from branch to branch was easy-peasy japanesey. There was no sound, no sign of anyone in my family to tell me no. Again. I stood up on the branch and climbed up to the next one, then one more… I was three quarters of the way up the tree. I could see the neighbor’s neighbor’s yards.   I put a foot out to move to another branch. But I missed it. In slow motion I fell down the tree, my left cheek scraped against one of those conquered branches, my foot hit another. I was on the grass.   “Maaaaaaammmmmmmm”. She couldn’t hear me. I hobbled through the yard into the kitchen, my tears stinging my burning face. There was a lot of blood for a kid. My mum screamed when she saw me. Now we were both screaming….. Dettol and band aids followed. And I still have a cool scar on my ankle to show for it.

     

    Many, many years later after finishing school and spending 10 or so years in working in banking I set off on another adventure. I was ready to leave it all behind, to have a completely different kind of life. I rented my flat out, I sold my car, my superfluous stuff, clothes, CD’s and the like …. And I bought a one-way ticket to Dusseldorf (it was the cheapest) and left. I lasted 3 days before flying to Milan….. I saw the Duomo and all of the shoe shops before spending the day in picturesque Genoa. From there my travels took me to Nice, Grasse & Monaco for what could have been Maryanne’s church tour of Europe in partial sun. But no! I redirected my travels to be guided by mouth and went on to Bouillabaisse in Marseille, Pintxos in San Sebastian, roast Pig Madrid, two weeks of tapas and sangria in Barcelona where I considered starting my new life undeterred by my lack of Spanish. But the real summer hadn’t started yet, so I decided to pass the time by heading north. Amsterdam for Jazz and Febo, Prague for late night dancing and dumplings then Vienna… for an uneventful pork schnitzel. … and finally driven by an odd desire to work and a grasp of the greek language, Santorini.. where I began my new and exciting life.. as a waitress. While Santorini is beautiful and every corner is a real life postcard, 42 days in a row of work on my feet reduced my fun ratio to about 30:70 and I thought a 60:40 ratio was a minimum. So I hopped over to Naxos and put my feet up by the sea for a week and then a friend I met in Nice got in touch and invited me to London…. 6 months earlier I had sat on my back doorstep and said to myself ‘no matter what happens, I’m not moving to London’…..

  • Fashion: Scream if you want to go faster

    “Fast fashion,” is one of the plagues of the last 10 years.

    When Raf Simons, Creative Director of Christian Dior announced his resignation recently, the fashion world was shocked. To a certain extent.

    In an interview before the announcement, he explained the reality that now faces high fashion houses.

    “We did this latest collection in three weeks, Tokyo was also done in three weeks. Actually everything is done in three weeks, maximum five. And when I think back to the first couture show for Dior, in July 2012, I was concerned because we only had eight weeks.”

    He went on to explain, “And now we never have time like that. And you know? It’s clearly possible to do it, The machine is there. Of course, we have to push really hard. But you have no incubation time for ideas, and this time is very important. When you try an idea, you look at it and think, Hmm, let’s put it away for a week and think about it later. But that’s never possible now”

    You may also remember the very public breakdown of the previous Dior creative director, John Galliano, in 2011. He was subsequently fired from his job and found guilty of racist abuse. He later described how his success increased his workload and as he became a slave to his career, alcohol and drugs were the only way for him to unwind.

    It’s not just an issue at Dior.

    And then of course there was Alexander McQueen who also felt similar pressures from the industry to repeatedly produce creatively and ultimately committed suicide in 2010.

    These large fashion houses are the driving force behind this relentless pace. Only the mega corporations can really afford to put on two huge ready-to-wear shows a year, or four if you add two haute couture shows, or six if you count men’s wear. Resort and pre-fall push the number up to eight. A couple of promotional shows in Asia, Brazil, Dubai or Moscow can bring the count to 10.

    There was a time when people got excited about two seasons a year., but in fashion the bottom line is everything, and that comes from selling more. And the best way to sell more is to make people think that they need more. There is no doubt that online shopping has fed the craze for speed, and when you can’t touch the fabric or try on the outfit, the only emotion you experience is the instant gratification of the purchase and knowing that you beat everyone else to it.

    So, how did this start, we were buying a lot of stuff before the internet happened.

    At the root of it all is Consumerism. It was described by its inventors in the US of the 1920s as the idea that people could be convinced that however much they have, it isn’t enough.  Sigmund Freud invented the idea of the Self, in 1900, but it was his American nephew, Edward Bernays, who really ran with it. Beginning in the early 20th century, through a new method he called public relations, he showed the government and businesses how to convince people to want things they didn’t need. This was done by linking mass-produced goods, services and political ideas to people’s subconscious self-centered desires. It was the beginning of America’s all-consuming obsession with self, has spread across every aspect of Western culture.

    More and more of the things we buy are for our social status, for example, the latest iPhone model instead of the previous one. A new pair of jeans every six months.  Shopping uses the same “seeking” part of the brain that fuels the creative rush.It turns out that our consumerist impulse stimulates the same part of the brain that fires when we’re on the trail of a great idea. As we go through the trial and error of executing an idea – What if I tried this? Of course, while consumerism in an addictive substitute for the stimulation that comes from creative activity, it offers nowhere near the same reward in the long term.

    However it does have the effect of boosting production and economic growth in some areas, while degrading them in others.  The clothing industry is the second largest polluter in the world … second only to oil, the clothing in the UK produces millions of tonnes of carbon dioxide, waste and waste water per year. While cotton, especially organic cotton, is the worst culprit, it can still take more than 23,000 litres of water to manufacture just a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

    So by now, you might be wondering how can I contribute to change? keeping in mind the best solution is most often, the simplest, and for me, I’ve decided to take advice from life lessons Written by a 100-Year-Old Man

     Everyone has too many clothes. Wear what you have and quit buying more.

     

     

     

     

     

  • London

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  • What about us?

    When strolling through the online fashion world of blogs and websites, does anyone ever feel like this:
    When most sites are filled with pictures of girls who look and dress like this:
    And who appear to have lives like this*:

     

    Don’t even start me on reading interviews with 22 year olds giving diet and exercise advice. You don’t need to diet when you are 22!!!  Sure, totally be healthy, but live it up! In terms of your ability to eat and drink without repercussion –  it’s never going to get better than this! Yes I know there are lots of us who feel better at “insert age here” but the automatic thin-ness and speed of metabolism will never be as good as it was.
    Where are the women over 30? Over 35? Where are the women with jobs? Kids? Mortgages?
    I fall into at least 1 of those buckets, maybe even 2 J
    But do I want to read ‘The Lady’ and learn how to make a great sponge cake instead? No.
    Do I want to develop ‘tech neck’* or even have the time to spend my evenings and weekends in front of my computer watching youtube videos? No.
    Lately … and I guess I’m not the only one given the rise of ‘Normcore’ (I called it – you saw it here first!! ) ..the over styled, over labelled, over exposed look has left me feeling out in the cold (no pun intended!), and quite frankly, I’m a little turned off by it. .. . Despite the internet giving ordinary people more access than ever before, it still looks like an insider’s club of who is getting gifted next season’s looks to wear now and publicise on their favourite internet platform. It is super, just super to celebrate the best of fashion and really express yourself with your fashion, … but is it feasible or even desirable to be OTT every single day? Are the fashion sites supposed to be inspirational, or aspirational?
    I’m not throwing in the fashion towel though! I want to see how I can hold down a paying job while looking good and be taken seriously. Call me crazy but I would love to be able to do this on a regular salary, where fashion comes in after bills (no, I don’t live at home!) and other associated grown up expenses..
    Where do all the cool grown-ups live?
    *disclaimer – I loooovee Miley and Cara – these girls are great, really great on every level.
    **tech neck… the lines you develop on your neck from looking down at your computer/iphone/ipad etc. ugh.

     

     

  • Fashion Fatigue?

    So the resort shows are on at the moment. .. have we noticed? maybe the big names haven’t showed yet so no mainstream press is on it.. no Chanel, Celine etc. maybe minimalism has made it all less newsworthy. Or maybe after relentless season after season of trend piled on trend piled on fashion show goer and vomited over overly-styled bloggers with arm parties and amazonian heels and plaids with prints with bling with paper bags and lunch bags and flamingo’s plus a kitchen sink all piled on top to please please please take my photo while I look like I don’t want my photo taken so I can then blog about how too many people are taking my photo we just want to get off now because it’s making me nauseous! I mean really it’s all so passe now no? a new item every day? and then wear them all at once?

    Or is it just me?
    Right now, all I want is a black pencil skirt to wear to the office. A plain black pencil skirt in a quality fabric. No frills. No zippers, bias cutting, cheeky splits up the side, funny lining, pinstripes, stretch tube skirts, mini skirts, midi skirts, pencil skirts in grey or navy. It’s great to have all these options. but all I want is a plain pencil skirt. Fingers crossed for the Fall collections eh?

  • Pre Fall 2013 – Yves Saint Laurent would be….

    turning in his grave or giving a standing applause? There was no official show and as Milan Men’s Fashion week has started combined with the Golden Globes, the release of the Saint Laurent collection was a non-event in more than one way.

    In his first season for the newly re-named house, Hedi Slimane showed a collection that was underwhelming to say the least. Given his history and stature in the industry, it seemed that despite this he was given a ‘do-over’ by the industry… can we be so generous this time?

    Here is a living breathing example of what he delivered last time:
     

    Yes it’s Anna Della Russo and Yes we love her and Yes she looks great in everything, but is it WOW?! or is it a bit too much like it was fished out of the costume department after the Mask of Zorro was made? OK it’s a look, it’s Gothic LA, yada yada, but from a heralded so called genius like Mr Slimane (he totally inspired Karl to lose 500 million kgs to fit into his clothes) I just expected more. I wanted it to be more beautiful.

    So, on to this season. Here are 3 of the about 19 looks:

    The dress below – totally hot. I get it. Think I saw it in Zara this season just gone..

    The leather dress is cool and edgy, reinforces the leather story for another season, I think Phoebe did it better though, and I’m pretty sure TopShop did one just like it not so long ago.

    This one is tough to say.. it’s a knit and presumably a skirt, with the same jacket in the top photo. The look reminds me of an angry teenager I’ve probably seen hanging around a cinema complex somewhere. I guess the overall impression I’m getting or giving I guess is that as far as women’s wear is concerned, Hedi Slimane is a great stylist. The accessories are great. The hats from last season are already everywhere and the bags are lovely and not doubt will do well enough to justify his position at the house. I’m glad he didn’t do predictable and mine the archives for another kind of do-over – like we need to see safari suits right now anyway, but in my mind at least YSL was glamour and it was cool. He has hit a nail on the head with some cool here, but let’s have some glamour too.