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wallpapernifty · 4 years

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21 Secrets You Will Not Want To Know About Plum Flower Girl Dresses | Plum Flower Girl Dresses

In the backward 1960s, ball was in transition. The beforehand academy told jokes and stories, alternate with the drummer’s rimshot. Of the new school, Bill Cosby—one of the aboriginal to acquaint acceptance you absolutely believed were true—and Bob Newhart—who abashed anybody with innovative, easygoing commitment and aboriginal material—had accomplished amount status. Mort Sahl tweaked both abandon of the political fence with his college-prof delivery. George Carlin and Richard Pryor, admitting absolute funny, were still a few years abroad from their final aesthetic breakthroughs. Lenny Bruce had died several years earlier, affronted both the arrangement and drugs, and his assignment was already in awakening because of his abrasive accuracy that fabricated ascendancy nervous. Vietnam, the aboriginal televised war, breach the country, and one’s larboard or adapted angled could be accustomed by haircuts and clothes. The country was angry, and so was comedy, which was addressed to insiders. Cheech and Chong batten to the accretion underground by rolling the world’s better doobie on film. There were exceptions: Don Rickles seemed to coast over the bearing gap with analgesic appearances on “The Tonight Show,” and Johnny Carson remained a amiable carper while advancement a nice comment of naughty-boy breast jokes. Tim Conway and Harvey Korman, two abundant banana account actors alive for the amiable ability Carol Burnett, were acutely funny. The television affray alleged “Laugh-In” kept its faculty of joy, acceptance in allotment to Goldie Hawn’s apparent goofiness and ambassador George Schlatter’s acute use of her screw-ups, but alike that actualization had aerial political content. In general, however, a amateur in shackles for dejected language, or a singer’s arrest for atrocious gestures, captivated the growing underground audience. Silliness was aloof not adapted for hip culture. It

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elanorjane · 6 years

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Picture of Beauty: Rumbelle Funny Face (Ch1/?)

Summary: Fashion house Jefferson-Mills needs inspiration. Photographer Gold believes a librarian he photographed by accident has what it takes. Now it's up to Gold to turn Belle into a model worthy of Paris Fashion Week. Based on the movie Funny Face. Rating: This chapter PG-13 A/N: Unbeta'd. I have no idea whether someone had already written a Rumbelle Funny Face, I was too afraid to look.

AO3

“I’m so bored I could kill all of you.” Regina Mills stood behind on her desk, perfectly framed by black and white demask curtains.

Her seven garment men stood in a row in front of her, work boots scuffing the marble floor. Each one held at least two bolts of fabric in various colors and patterns.

Leroy looked down the line of exquisite cloth, “Whatsa matter with ‘em?”

Regina had put in the order herself. She’d okay’d every design detail down to the perfect shade of ultra violet for a lily to be printed on silk charmeuse. Leroy and his men hand dyed and cut patterns to her exact specifications. It was this kind of attention to detail that made Jefferson-Mills one of the emerging premier fashion houses. Now the latest swatches were staring her in the face...and they were hideous. A complete snoozefest.

"It looks like my grandma’s knitting circle threw up in here. Where's the freshness? Where's the youth? Youth is beauty. I should know, I've been selling that lie for years."

Walter, standing at the end of the line and usually very docile, piped up, "Aren't they what you wanted?"

Regina circled around the desk. Walter swayed on his feet but stayed where he was. She spoke through clenched teeth, "They're exactly what I wanted. But not what I need." She threw her hands up in the direction of the fabrics, “It’s tired. It’s been done.” She stood in front of the blue and tan floral print Walter held, “That’s Chloe Spring 2017,” she dismissed. She took a few steps to her right and stopped at a sheer lilac, “And that’s Valentino Couture 2006.”

Leroy shrugged, "How many more types of fabric can there be?"

Regina gave him a withering glare that Walter and the others slunk away from. She paced back and forth, the men parting to make way. "What's missing? What do I need?" she muttered to herself.

Doc leaned forward, giving the collection an academic eye, “Pink?”

She grimaced, “God no.”

The double doors to her office burst open and Jefferson strode in. "Who's ready for Paris?" he sang in an exaggerated French accent. Everyone spun to look at him and Jefferson came to a standstill, eyes sweeping over the prints that stretched from one end of Regina’s office to the other. "Ugh, hideous!"

She rolled her eyes, "They're your designs!"

"Really?" he squinted and bent at the waist to better study a linen Doc clutched to his chest. He straightened, shaking his head. "They're hideous."

"I know," she sighed. She tilted her head at them. If she stared at them long enough they might become what they needed.

Regina had discovered Jefferson when he was a single father schlepping away at design school. He was obviously brilliant, but in desperate need of some editing. Underneath the sketches of a madman, his clothes were brilliant and she saw his designs for what they were: dreamy fairytale looks that transported the wearer to anther realm. They could be a turns romantic and street. But he was a classic creative with no business sense. He needed an investor, a partner, to make them luxe. And that's where she came in. She brought order to his madness. Made a cohesive collection editorial enough to put in magazines and made them cost effective enough to put into production. Without her it was all top hats and ascots.

Speaking of…Jefferson revolved around the men and the bolts of fabric. He wore a long black coat of his own design with steel buttons and gray collar. Everything else he wore was black except for a merlot ascot, his signature accessory. When he shows he pairs it with a top hat, an eccentricity she couldn’t cure him of.

He pulled the end of his necktie from his shirt, snatching off Leroy’s hat and miming shining his head with it. The workman grumbled and swatted at Jefferson, snatching his hat back and jamming it onto his head. No one was taking this seriously.

"Jefferson, we need forty two looks for Fashion Week and right now we barely have one!"

He scoffed wandering aimlessly around her office, picking things up at random, "That can't be true, what about the stuff I sent you last week?"

She followed him around her office, “Gold started working on the photos this morning.” She crossed her arms, “But it’s not going to be enough.”

Jefferson threw himself onto the divan, "What can I tell you, Regina. I have no inspiration right now! I'm done, I'm kaput!" he threw his arm over his eyes dramatically.

"Well get inspired now or we're all kaput!"

He deflated, "Regina, you know nothing about the life of an artist or the artistic process."

She leaned over his head sweetly, “If you want to keep Grace in private school, you will get up off your ass, right now, and design me some winning looks.”

The door to her office opened again and Gold strode in, a folder of photographs in his hand.

Jefferson craned his neck, "Gold, darling, when are you going to let me dress you?" he called.

Gold didn’t break his pace to assess his own pristine three piece suit. "And what, Jefferson, is wrong with the way I dress?"

Jefferson vaulted up from the couch, "Nothing, love, absolutely nothing. And that's the problem. Every time I look at you I just want to put you slightly out of skew." He pulled back, assessing him like an auteur. He reached forward as if to adjust Gold’s tie.

Gold swatted his hand away, "That is one thing I can guarantee you, Jefferson. You will never, ever, see me askew." He turned to Regina, immediately reading her face, “What’s wrong?”

“We don’t love the looks we sent you. We are lost.”

He tossed the pile of photographs onto her desk, “And I’ve had my time wasted.”

Regina perched on the edge of her desk and flipped through the prints he’d made from that morning’s photoshoot. The model pouted, thrust, and arched her back in every photo. Not the aesthetic they were going for. “What happened?”

He sighed, “I told her to imagine herself in the Museum of Modern Art. I got Ripley’s Believe It or Not. Get me someone I can work with, Regina, or I quit.”

“No, you don’t. Who else would let you work in a darkroom and develop prints like it’s 1957?” She’d had enough grievances. She stood up and faced all of them. “Now here this. In mere weeks we are supposed to be boarding a plane to France with forty plus looks. Paris Fashion Week happens with or without us and I would prefer not to be a laughing stock!” She leaned a hand on the photos and turned to Gold. “What do you need to fix this?”

Gold scoffed, “Someone who could keep their overt sexuality in check long enough for me to take a picture of the dress they’re wearing.”

“Sex sells,” she countered.

“Sex is everywhere,” he replied, disinterested.

For the first time, Regina’s fiery determination petered out to self-doubt, “Can I have possibly scraped the bottom of the barrel of asking women to feel terrible about their looks?”

“You could make them feel stupid,” Gold suggested.

She was intrigued. After all, she was in the business of making people feel inferior, “How so?”

“Move your focus upstairs.”

She glanced at the ceiling, “The marketing department?”

Gold shook his head, “No, the brain. Find someone with some intelligence. A woman can be beautiful as well as intellectual.”

She thought on that for a minute before shaking her head, “Maybe a different background. We could go on location. Somewhere intellectual. Somewhere with books.”

“A bookstore.” Jefferson offered.

She made a face, “Bookstores don’t exist anymore. A library.” She warmed up to the idea. “Yes, one of those little ones everyone’s always trying to save.” Regina pointed at Leroy, “What’s the closest podunk town?”

Leroy already had his phone out and Google Maps up, “Storybrooke.”

#Rumbelle #funnyface #rumbelle fic #Belle French #Mr Gold #Rumbelle fanfic #Rumbelle Funny Face AU #my fic #mine #picture of beauty

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kadobeclothing · 4 years

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12 Pieces Of Menswear That Defined Style In The 2010s

The last decade was a momentous one for menswear.It was the decade in which men’s fashion finally caught up with womenswear in both creativity and clout. The work of men’s designers was analysed in a way once reserved only for the fairer sex’s creative directors. And the glacial pace of plain old ‘bloke’s clothes’ accelerated, as trends exploded and ebbed away ever more quickly than ever.At the beginning of the 2010s, we were still under the thrall of Don Draper. The collective love affair with sharp tailoring made men take style – and the details of style – seriously like rarely before. Then came the hipsters, the Scandi minimalists, the normcore hardcores. And then, of course, came streetwear, making the swing to casual dress close to complete.Unlike decades past, no one style ruled. This was an era when anything went, when the internet made fashion ultra-accessible. Everything was cool.It was also the decade in which we simply wore some really great stuff (and some really not-so great stuff). From skinny jeans to designer merch, these were the clothes that men obsessed over in the 2010s.Selvedge DenimPerhaps the biggest influence on menswear over the last decade wasn’t a trend or even a designer, but forums – groups of like-minded men who’d meet online to discuss shared interests. They were catnip for obsessives, and nothing in a man’s wardrobe attracts obsessives like selvedge denim.In 2010, you couldn’t swing a cat in any trendy neighbourhood without hitting a bearded man who was boring on about his fades, Japanese shuttle looms or why “real denim-heads actually wash theirs in the sea.”MerchLuxury brands have a problem – their cachet is based on exclusivity, but they need to find more customers in order to hit growth targets. The solution? Merch.In the 2010s, brands realised that they could still knock out unaffordable couture and luggage, but also tap a new millennial and Gen Z audience by hocking logo-covered bits of, well, anything. Their prices, though still eye-watering, were in reach of the teenage wallet in a way that, say, a monogrammed trunk wasn’t.Minimal SneakersIn a world where sneakers are ubiquitous, it seems strange that, for a while, brogues were the style-aware man’s de facto footwear. They were easy, versatile and perfect for a moment in which dress codes were relaxing, but you probably still had to wear chinos to work.Then, in a few short seasons, the minimal sneaker supplanted them as the office staple, and thousands of pairs of Loakes were pushed to the back of the wardrobe to make way for pairs of Common Projects Achilles or Stan Smiths.Pocket SquaresAs well as the post-hipster workwear boom, forums also birthed a peculiar strain of classic menswear nerd. Overnight, the kind of man who’d only ever shopped on the high street became versed in legacy Italian tailoring brands, the perfect suit ‘drop’ and the precise way to fold a pocket square.Menswear trade show Pitti Uomo was soon overrun by ‘peacocks’, who would strut past street style photographers in double-breasted blazers and monk strap shoes, thirstily showcasing their mastery of sprezzatura. Then six months later, they all came back and did the same thing in tracksuits.Luxe JoggersIn 2015, Vladimir Putin appeared in a photoshoot wearing a $3,200 cashmere tracksuit, and the world laughed. The menswear heads, however, were silent; it suddenly looked like everyone might cotton on to their luxe sportswear secret.They’d been wearing Brunello Cucinelli’s luxury joggers for a few seasons, first purely as off-duty wear, then to work with unstructured blazers and knitted ties. Men had realised that they could be kinda dressed up but also super-comfortable, and they weren’t going back to the starch and stiffness.YeezysThere had been hyped sneakers before, of course. Other shoes that a particular kind of man would hyperventilate over. But never a trainer that was both limited and mass-market, niche and wildly popular.All the most bonkers things about sneaker culture today – raffles, resale mark-ups, pre-teens flipping shoes for grown-up money – were mainstreamed by the Yeezy 350 in 2015.Skinny JeansThe counterpoint to straight-cut selvedge was a hangover from the noughties that, at first, seemed, like it would disappear, only to re-emerge midway through the decade on the legs of Love Island contestants.Skinny jeans have now crossed from fad to trend to permanence, and like the cockroaches of the menswear world, they just won’t die. If they’re your fit of choice, more power to you. Just know that we’ll be over here, luxuriating in loose legs. At least until Hedi Slimane (who we really have to thank/blame for it all) tells us to switch back again.Cross-Body BagsTrouser widths were predictable; bumbags were not. The ’90s punchline stopped being so funny when Kim Jones at Dior reimagined the house’s iconic saddlebag as a cross-body carrier, with a target market that didn’t include guys selling dodgy pills at Parklife festival.But perhaps men should have seen them coming; the revival of the Hacienda days, coupled with the proliferation of stuff we all carry with us now arguably made them inevitable.HoodiesUntil the 2010s, the lines between high and low fashion were clear. By the decade’s midpoint, they’d blurred beyond recognition – suits with sneakers, joggers with overcoats.The hoodie was where the two cultures collided most violently, as an already controversial piece of clothing that had been further politicised by the killing of Trayvon Martin was reimagined as a bank account-draining luxury buy. There is no world in which a hoodie with a logo on should cost four figures. And yet that is the world in which we now live.Wide-Leg TrousersWhat goes in must come out and, as fertility-challenging skinny jeans become ever more popular, menswear’s pendulum inevitably swung the other way. Towards the tail-end of the decade, pleats escaped your grandfather’s wardrobe and men rediscovered the joy of being able to breathe out.Remember, though, that this is only a momentary relaxation. History is doomed to repeat itself, and there’s every chance we’ll be back to pouring ourselves into tight trousers before the 2020s are out.Bomber JacketsAs part of the whole casual-goes-smart movement, designers raided the military for clothes that had a martial bearing but casual feel. The bomber jacket, which had previously oscillated in and out of fashion, suddenly became a staple, as it was reimagined in everything from cotton to scuba fabric. Today, they’ve supplanted cardigans as the lightweight layer you reach for when you want to dress down, but not all the way down.Chunky TrainersPhysiotherapists will perhaps look back on the late-2010s as the decade that destroyed the posture of a generation. Non-prescription orthopaedic shoes, like Balenciaga’s watershed Triple S, the Alexander McQueen platform trainers and Gucci’s Rhytons, have now filtered down to the high street.You can argue forever about whether deliberately ugly fashion is a challenging creative statement or irony eating itself, but now they’re here, you can’t make them go away. Source link

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