Lady Amanda Harlech

[songbirdsel]

what a gorgeous photograph!

 

[Boomer]

Oh, she is so beautiful!! And that cut-crystal voice...!

http://www.londonfashionweek.co.uk/video_details.asp?videoid=2155&SeasonID=&DesignerID=&Feature=2

 

[Love$2shop]

Boomer, you ROCK!!! Thanks for the vid!!! MAJOR KARMA coming your way, babe!


ETA: Sorry, Boomer! It won't let you give you any more karma. I will try later. Thanks again though.

 

[ponytrot]

thanks boomer!

you doll, now i have another item to put on my shrine!!

 

[Boomer]

^^ Ah, thanks guys! It's my pleasure! Only four weeks to HC...I wonder what they have in store for us this year!!??

 

[Boomer]

Lady H has several things to say here...B)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZK_6gRQtI4

 

[ponytrot]

^ boomer, when i tried to play it, it said "embedding disabled by request" ?

 

[Boomer]

Oh- sorry...That came from World Fashion on UTube which I guess is a commercial site- I guess they don't want their material linked...
Go to U Tube and put The History of Chanel - Iconic Design - Part 9 in the Search box and it should come up... Amanda is there after about 2 minutes...

 

[Harumi]

Best dressed:


At Issy Blow's funeral:


my snaps

 

[Boomer]

Umm, I was going to post some party pictures I found, but I changed my mind; I never knew any of this...Very sad...

btw, I never heard this term, so I found this in case anyone else wonders...
Why would someone be “sectioned”?

The power to admit someone compulsorily to hospital under the Mental Health Act is applied only to people experiencing severe mental distress who are posing a danger to either themselves or to someone else, and only if they are refusing to accept help and treatment.

Link to the Daily Mail 1.23.09:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1126780/Curse-Harlechs-hits-again.html

 

[Party_Vixen]

^ So sad . I feel like many of these aristocratic families have suffered such horrible tragedies somewhere in their history.

 

[Gleam]

On a side note, I'm surpised that she's Lagerfeld's muse b/c I don't see her as a Chanel woman. More Dior/Gaultier.

Yes, agreed.

 

[nyc_art_style]

scanned by me

 

[classicalbang]

Her house is breathtaking. I dream of owning a place like that someday.

 

[ponytrot]

So sad to hear what poor Tallulah and the Harlech family is going through

best of luck to them and hopefully things will heal in time.

Karma! nyc_art_style!! Stunning scans....Boomer, now did you mention a son?

 

[Boomer]

....Boomer, now did you mention a son?

I'll put in a good word for you- I'm sure he'll be at the wedding... B)

 

[ponytrot]

well i can see you will be of great comfort to Tallulah!

she is in NY at the moment, so you're in closer proximity than i am.

meanwhile i'll go have deep and meaningful chats with Jassett

and we can discuss art, books and music

 

[ponytrot]

has this article ever been posted? I find the insight into the circles she runs in very interesting.

She does seem very zietgeist, her bowerbird-like interests are idiosyncratic and ecletic.

By SUZY MENKES;
Published: August 15, 1993
Amanda Harlech sits in her bedroom lapped in lush velvet. She looks like the high priestess of Haute Bohemia, with this upright English country house and its rabbit-warren of rooms her gypsy kingdom.
Harlech, a passionate horsewoman, says that she lives in jodhpurs. But there are Chinese slippers on the floor, and from the table she picks up some feathers that she twists into a dying swan of a hat. With her slim, pale face, she looks like a portrait of Lady Ottoline Morrell, the exotic creature who fascinated the Bloomsbury set before and after the First World War.
"Bloomsbury was more earnest -- this is more whimsical and not as literary," she says.
"This" refers to the magpie assortment of people Harlech gathers around her, whom she calls "the troopers." Like that earlier coterie of bohemians, the troopers are a spirited mix: artists; crafts people; hunting friends; a forester named Julian Freeman-Attwood, who also "climbs mountains"; Gwendoline (Wendy) Mason, who makes pottery "with an applique of daisies." A picnic among friends takes on the quality of a Mad Hatter tea party.
Harlech personifies in her personal style the spirit of fashion today. Her clothes look as though she and a house party of friends rummaged the attic for things other people have worn and loved. This eccentric grandeur has made her the muse of John Galliano, the British designer who is one of fashion's free spirits. His extravagant blend of different cultures and centuries chimes precisely with Harlech's taste, and she has inspired and styled all his collections. She talks to him daily in his Paris studio and claims that "his spirit is here in this house -- all the things you are looking at, he has looked at, too."
pstairs in the attic, where Harlech has her sewing room, she maintains her private fashion collection. There are eight hunting pinks (tailored red riding jackets); wilting Diaghilev ballet costumes; bolts of theatrical velvet; damask curtains that are too fragile to hang but too beautiful to throw out.
Most of the clothes and objects she collects -- like the tiny beaded communion crowns -- are found locally in Oswestry in a "wonderful shop stuffed full of old clothes." Newly acquired treasures will "lie on the dining room table" for a year to "feed and hold" attention. Or they will be placed on the mantelpiece in the morning room.
There is an especially English flavor to the rich hippie style, with its controlled chaos and careful disorder set against the background of an historic house with a noble ancestry but without a lick of paint.
"I'd like to think it is very English -- even if my husband is Welsh and Irish and I am Scottish and French," she says.
From the drawing-room window you look down at the flat plains of Shropshire. In the distance, you can see the mountains of Wales, where other Lord Harlechs have held sway. Inside the Mount -- the dilapidated squire's house that her husband, Francis, inherited -- objects are arranged in divine disarray. Goose feathers lie in a white snowdrift on the kitchen dresser. Between the dining room and drawing room, a velvet crimson curtain swooshes into a train across the floor.
"There's always an element of things being displaced -- things not having a context but somehow belonging," she says. "But it is not self-conscious -- this is a home." On the bedroom floor stands the wooden cradle that Lady Harlech used to rock by lying in bed tugging at a length of yarn. The babies are now children: Jasset, 7, "wise with green eyes" and Tallulah, 5, "a complete pumpkin" who still leaps in and out of the cradle when she is not riding her pony, Paddy.
Harlech herself is an outdoor person, a passionate and fearless horsewoman, describing riding as "my therapy -- being brave." She also looks after the gardens, harvesting 52 bales of hay from what was once the front lawn and planting "great clumps of evening primrose."
But most of all she loves the Mount's situation on a hillside overlooking the town of Oswestry:
"We sit perched like a gray bird. It's wonderful to look down, it's like flying."
Correction: August 15, 1993
A picture caption on page 42 of The Times Magazine today, with the Fashion column, refers incorrectly to Amanda Harlech's children. She has a son, Jasset, and a daughter, Tallulah, not two daughters.
Suzy Menkes, fashion editor of The International Herald Tribune, contributes to Styles of the Times.

 

[Boomer]

Here's a picture of Tallulah from Splash News...

 

[ponytrot]

i love her! She needs to be my bestie.

I have to make friends with the family if i get a shot with Jassett

here is a tidbit on Tallulah's acting

A similarly pulpy aura comes from a sound installation by Jay Batlle in a room across the courtyard. For Sparkling or Still, which he presents along with 20 napkins on which he painted with wine, coffee, ink and pencil, Batlle reads a script with Tallulah Harlech, the 19-year-old daughter of Lady Amanda Harleck, English fashion icon and Karl Langerfeld’s in-house muse. In the recording, Tallulah plays a waitress reading a menu to a snooty American customer, and her cut-glass English intonations add a knife-sharp edge to the escalating perversity of the culinary selections, which begin with "a single chestnut on a plate," and escalate to "the chestnut was stuffed into a baby hen, which was stuffed into a chicken, which was then stuffed into a long island duck, which was then stuffed into a castrated wild turkey, and again stuffed into a boned out Australian lamb and finally roasted in a manmade pit, which was dug 30 feet deep in solid bedrock and covered in fig leaves as it cooked for the entire season of autumn."