Inspiration (January 2005 - April 2010) | Page 73 | the Fashion Spot

Inspiration (January 2005 - April 2010)

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[my photo (Martin Margiela expo); modelhommes via Faith Akiyama; the selby; scanned by Berlin Rocks]
 

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designscene.net
Sonia%2BRykiel%2BFW%2B08.09%2B%2BIekeliene%2BStange,%2BIrina%2BLazareanu%2B%26%2BAnna%2BGushina%2B02.JPG
 

koernerunion.com

style-files.com

ffffound.com


flickr.com
 
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good stuff, mirra, love the 2nd image. :heart:

Alber Elbaz, google images is not a valid source as it's a search engine. Please add proper credits to your photos or they will have to be removed. For more information about this policy, click here.

And to all members using images from sites like flickr or deviantart (and similar ones), please read the recent changes to our photo crediting rules as we're already (01-05-09) urging everyone to also include account names in the credits.
 
(Autudum de Wilde/New York Times, yawoot, straatis at flickr)
 

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Wow .... I love this thread so much :heart: :crush: truly inspiring! Thanks for all the input guys :flower:
 
they look like they are wearing suede or velvet :)

great inspiration, goldentouch
 
Thank you! My family inspires me everyday. To me, they're the most important people in the world...and I also think my grandparents and my mother dressed very well! And still do by the way!

Some more:

annetherese.jpg

Mommy & Grandma

coline0609.jpg

My little niece (some pics i took of her about 3 years ago)

coline0607.jpg

coline0606.jpg

She's so funny and gorgeous!

coline0604.jpg

She loves my make-up..

coline3.png

An older picture (2005 I guess)
 
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Does anyone ever get inspired by non-visual mediums, like dialogue or writing, or music without lyrics? Not necessarily the images that those things conjure, but also intangible feelings that they can create. This happens to me a lot, but I never post it, because it's so difficult to pinpoint the inspiration, and explain how that translates to my style. Recently, the following story got to me, especially the part of the girl sitting against the bed and holding her lover's hand while he sleeps.

http://women.timesonline.co.uk

Hard to Forget, by Siedemset
My counsellor is not sure that it was love. Maybe lust. I have been going to my sessions for over half a year now. Absolutely I should not have loved her. I am married, have two children whom I am crazy about.
But I fell for our Polish au pair, like a car crash! She, an ordinary girl. But lively. Laughed a lot. Sporty, slim, sweet. We had common interests: contemporary music, humour, each other, my children, a European background: I am part-Danish.
One evening when we were on our own, we held hands halfway through a film, Donnie Darko, and ended with a kiss.
A strange summer apart followed, me thinking about her. When she returned, I declared my love for her and she for me. We met in secret.
Our affair grew. Became more intense, close, real, passionate than my marriage or any of my other pairings. I liked to breathe in the air she exhaled, have part of her inside me. Sometimes I would fall asleep on my own and wake to find my hand being held by the girl, sitting on the floor next to the bed. Silently.
One night she disappeared and I found her in the woods, in a nightie.
We made love standing up in the driving rain. Other times we snuck out during a party when everyone was occupied. I was her first love.
Needless to say, we were discovered. My marriage stayed intact but the girl left. She found someone else.
 
^ yes definitely ,i mean maybe 80% of the music i listen to i can't understand even but i just go by the tune :p lately i like the Beetlejuice soundtrack.. Harry Belafonte's "Shake Shake Shake" with winona ryder flying up over the staircase at the end, i don't even listen to the lyrics
childhood memories:heart:
 
I always loved that song and scene! And the Danny Elfman music. Childhood memories, indeed. I'm convinced that Tim Burton and Winona Ryder as a goth - before I even knew there was such a thing - had a massive influence on my later life.
 
me too! i love her too-intelligent-for-her-age character
and the clueless parents
very relatable ^_^
 
Does anyone ever get inspired by non-visual mediums, like dialogue or writing, or music without lyrics? Not necessarily the images that those things conjure, but also intangible feelings that they can create.

Absolutely. They are the most exalting ones.

Here are a couple of pieces of writing that have inspired me...

There was a boy standing in front of the jukebox. He had on one of those summer shirts with holes in it, a white shirt hanging outside his pants. Through the shirt, in a halo of hideous man-made colors, chlorophyll greens, res and oranges of synthetic soft drinks, the purples of a fluorescent-lighted cocktail lounge, the ghastly light pinks and blues of religious objects, I could see the lean young body alive with animal alertness. He was leaning against the jukebox, his hip thrown to one side, his face bent over, reading the song titles, all the awkwardness and grace and sweetness of adolescence in his stance, those terrible colors playing over him.
He looks like and advertisement for something, I thought, but that wasn't exactly what I meant. There was some significance in the young figure leaning over the jukebox that eluded me. Then he turned around, pivoting with a sudden movement. I could hear my own breath suck in with a sharp hiss of air. He didn't have any face. It was a mass of scar tissue. . . .

-William S. Burroughs, Interzone
He seemed so certain about everything, didn't he? And yet none of his certainties was worth one hair of a woman's head. He wasn't even sure he was alive, because he was living like a dead man. Whereas it looked as if I was the one who'd come up empty handed. But I was sure about me, about everything, surer than he could ever be, sure of my life and sure of the death I had waiting for me. Yes, that was all I had. But at least I had as much of a hold on it as it had on me. I had been right, I was still right, I was always right. I had lived my life one way and I could just as well have lived it another. I had done this and I hadn't done that. I hadn't done this thing but I had done another. And so? It was as if I had waited all this time for this moment and for the first light of this dawn to be vindicated. Nothing, nothing mattered, and I knew why. So did he.

-Albert Camus, The Stranger
 
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