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judy smith Feb 2017
In this age of global uncertainty, clothes have become a kind of panacea for a growing number of consumers. Designers are responding to the political upheavals of the past year by injecting some much-needed humour into women’s wardrobes. Browns CEO Holli Rogers is already predicting that spring’s sartorial hit will be Rosie Assoulin’s smiley-face T-shirt. This cheery number, which reads "Thank you! Have a Nice Day!’" neatly sums up the jubilant mood of the coming season.

The logic goes that turning up the dial on the fun, the colourful and the crazy is the sartorial equivalent of Michelle Obama’s "when they go low, we go high" mantra. We may not be able to control the chaos of world events, but we still rule our own style.

It’s no coincidence that a cartoonish aesthetic, of the sort you’d find if you rifled through an eccentric child’s dressing-up box, was in plentiful supply on the spring/summer 2017 runways. Alessandro Michele’s army of Gucci geeks displayed growing swagger in garish get-ups that ran from fuzzy crayon-coloured furs featuring zebras to tiered, tinsel-y coats that rivalled Grandma’s Christmas tree.

It was a similar story at Dolce & Gabbana, where sumptuous eveningwear was loaded with pasta and pizza motifs, and drums became bags, while Marc Jacobs tore a page from a psychedelic colouring book, covering clothes with the childlike scrawl of the London illustrator Julie Verhoeven. Even ardent minimalists would have to admit that these playful looks have potent pick-me-up power.

For Anya Hindmarch – whose empire is built on feel-good fashion – all this frivolity is nothing new. "An ironic, lighter and more irreverent approach has always been my thing. People love beautiful objects and increasingly, they want to show their character – that’s the point of fashion," she says. "Customers today are more confident with their style. There aren’t so many rules. It’s about putting a sticker on a beautiful handbag and not being too precious about it."

What’s surprising is who is consuming this cartoonish style. Though there’s no real rhyme or reason, says Hindmarch, often it’s older clients who are investing in the maddest pieces – like her cuddly, googly-eyed Ghost backpack that has also been spotted on Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner.

The same is true of the customer for the Lebanese designer Mira Mikati’s emoji-embellished styles. Though her fans run from twenty to fiftysomethings, at a recent London pop-up one of Mikati’s most ardent buyers was an 87-year-old. "She tells me that whenever she wears my clothes people stop her on the street. They smile. They start conversations. She literally makes friends through what she wears."

Mikati began her career as a buyer, co-founding the upscale Beirut boutique Plum, before launching her own line some four seasons ago – largely out of frustration at the sameness of the mainstream collections. "I wanted to create something fun and colourful but easy to wear – that you can add to jeans and a white T-shirt, but that’s also a conversation point."

Her clothes, worn by Beyoncé and Rihanna, are certainly that: pink parrot-appliquéd trench coats, scribble-print hooded tops and dresses clad with a family of monsters who spell out her Peter Pan ethos in scrawled speech bubbles that read "Never Grow Up’" The antithesis of normcore, these designs take their cue from her children’s toy trunk and the Japanese pop art of Takashi Murakami – who returned the compliment by donning one of her patched bombers.

Mikati is clearly onto something. According to Roberta Benteler, who founded online fashion emporium Avenue 32 in 2011, it’s the cartoon aesthetic that’s really piquing women’s desire right now.

"Anything that looks like a child’s drawing or a toy sells incredibly well," she says. "Brands like Mira Mikati, Vivetta and Les Petits Joueurs inspire the impulse to buy because they’re so eye-catching. You have to have it now because there’s a sense you won’t find it anywhere else."

The exponential rise of street-style stars and the social-media machine that now propels the fashion industry also plays a part in the popularity of these playful looks.

"Designers are creating for the online world and customer," continues Benteler, who cites the Middle Eastern consumer as a big investor in these niche eccentric designs. "People find escapism in fashion and more than ever they need something to cheer them up. These are clothes that stand out on Instagram, and for designers that translates into sales."

In practical terms, in an effort to beat the warp speed of high-street copying, designers are differentiating themselves with increasingly intricate and artisanal styles that are harder to mimic. Just because these pieces have a childlike sensibility doesn’t mean they’re not beautifully crafted.

"My aim is create a handbag that you can keep as a design piece," explains the accessories designer Paula Cademartori. One of her most successful designs – the Petite Faye bag, which comes in a whole rainbow of configurations – takes more than 32 hours to create at her Italian studio. "Even if the styles are colourful and speak loudly, they’re still sophisticated," says Cademartori, whose brand was recently snapped up by the luxury goods group OTB. It can pay to be playful.

One man with a unique insight into the feel-good phenomenon is Marco de Vincenzo, who combines his longstanding role as leather goods head designer at Fendi with creating his own collection. "When we first created the Fendi monster accessories for bags we were simply playing around," he says of the charms that still loom large some three years on. "The most successful designs are created without pressure, through play."

His own-line debut bag features an animalistic paw. ‘It’s about creating something new and different for women to discover,’ he explains. "You buy something because you love it, not because you need it. Fashion is like a game – it has to excite."

When it comes to distilling this childlike abandon into your wardrobe, take cues from super style blogger Leandra Medine, who balances madcap pieces, such as her first collection of colourful footwear under her MR By Man Repeller label, with plainer, simpler ones. "It’s all about wearing your clothes with joy, and having fun, but not looking ridiculous," says Cademartori. "You don’t want to look like an actual cartoon."

It’s advice that chimes with that of Anya Hindmarch. "I love the idea of wearing a super-simple Comme des Garçons jacket and a white shirt with a really fun bag to mess it all up a bit." It’s a failsafe formula for dressing your way to happiness.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
yet even though i count only five members,
i still play with my moustache and beard
like an organism of eight extensions,
thus i weave and think simultaneously,
in this great cobweb of silence:
my hand the spider, my mouth the cobweb...
how pretty the interaction to exact
the daffodil a caleigh with the thistle in parisian persian.

i am as unsavoury in my buds
of the tongue as i might calypso a pineapple for pink
in the new dictionary stating pink defines punk!
i am unsavoury in by tastes
like trans-muscle in its ivory enclosure,
as i am outstretching my hand
to “photograph” the rain
with my hand to get freckles and knitting patterns of aqua gnats,
as i am to say:
a. you dittoed that word without using it prior,
so why exploit such usage in the first place?!
and...
b. it made more sense to itch with rain
than describe drunk & twitching spiders doing a cancan dance
in the four necessary extremes of  21st century morse encoding
with emoticons: s.o.s. = octopus :) reverse :) pianist fake :(.
elevator going up! (this is the scottish parliament,
after all)
shiksh floor...
elevator going down...
ground floor...
that’s just ******* boring...
how about you climb the shcaffold
and drop chimney bricks onto prince’s st. (edinburgh) drunk, eh?!
well i did that, actually... who’s up for a sarcastic tying the knot
and reining in a horse?
no one? oh oops twos a buckle with hoofs for teeth
as the same cement... no, sorry... it’s called *enamel
;
say hi for me to ben and nick harper in this silence of typing ‘
oh i thought (i.e. susan).
**** me, the comma is on the ceiling, who’s going to measure
the time width of that one for exacted humour?!
here's one: when sean connie is on the screen,
you never shush the audience...
unless you get a shish kebab prior... and a shanty town
dr. feelgood - repairs project in motion...
shanty town project thumbs up good to go!
dr. strangelove - bomb bomb bomb!
dr. feelgood - shanty town isn't a hiroshima.
dr. strangelove - bomb bomb bomb, bomb!
dr. feelgood - a nuke on a geographic peanut?!
dr. strangelove - bomb bomb bomb burning bush in the taj mahal urn!
edinburgh is the new paris! edinburgh is the new paris!
yo yodeling the york... new town... virginia...
i'll export revolutionary france via scotland with edible 'burp'
new paris! bon voyage the october-haggis...
settle us among the apache with blood ***** and gain
testifying the hog's intestines as worthy digestion!
If you're a celebrity
For medications come to me
I have them all, come see, come see
I'm the devil in disguise

I sign prescriptions by the score
If you run out, I'll give you more
I'll bring your pills right to your door
I'm the devil in disguise

Dr. Robert, Feelgood too
Names I'm sure are known to you
If you're in need call you know who
I'm the devil in disguise

Uppers, Downers, oxy's....well
Imagine what is down in hell
I'll keep your secret, I won't tell
I'm the devil in disguise

Elvis called, and MJ too
They both liked pills in shades of blue
No one else does what I do
I'm the devil in disguise

It's up to you, which choice you make
I fulfill, and you....you take
I'm here all night, don't need a break
I'm the devil in disguise

If you're in need, well...I'll be there
You pay for service, and I care
I've got lots, and lots to share
I'm the devil in disguise

If you're mute, and lost your voice
You know I'm your only choice
I'll be right round in my Rolls Royce
I'm the devil in disguise

You'll end up dead, but I'll keep kicking
With pills and needles, stars keep sticking
I'm the doctor all the stars are picking
I'm the devil in disguise

I am the devil, that is true
I am around, that's not new
I'm known to them, but not to you
I'm their doctor...till they die.
Prisoners of their own success

Their world now micro-sized

Fan adulation to excess

Their love is just disguised

Their objects of affection

Live their lives inside a bubble

Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed

Could bring them worlds of trouble

A truck driver from Tupelo

A pop band from the 'pool

A superstar from Hoboken,

And one...the King of Cool

The superstar from Hoboken

Became the Chairman of The Board

If you made it into his 'rat pack'

You knew you'd really scored

His movies and his music

Made him the world's number one

But he had to minimize his world

When someone stole his son

His boy was kidnapped, truthfully

Back in 1965

And through his contacts in the mob

He got his son back home alive

This is the price of fame folks

Behind the glitter and the glam

They've got to have their safety

But the fans don't give a ****

Prisoners of their own success

Their world now micro-sized

Fan adulation to excess

Their love is just disguised

Their objects of affection

Live their lives inside a bubble

Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed

Could bring them worlds of trouble

The Memphis Mafia gave protection

To The King of Rock and Roll

But, by choice his world got smaller

And he went into a hole

He built a house in Memphis

To protect him from his fans

And thanks to Dr. Feelgood

He died a lonely, broken man

He couldn't live the life he earned

He was a prisioner instead

It's a shame he has more value

Now that he is dead

Prisoners of their own success

Their world now micro-sized

Fan adulation to excess

Their love is just disguised

Their objects of affection

Live their lives inside a bubble

Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed

Could bring them worlds of trouble

He'd a partner and was cool

He was suave and sang songs

And he worked with a "fool"

They conquered the nightclubs

They were known near and far

But his created alter ego

Lived his life at the bar

He ran with Frank Sinatra

He was the King of Cool

But when The Chairman started lessons

Dean was right there in his school

The Beatles broke in Hamburg

But way back in sixty two

Their bubble was just forming

There was nothing they could do

They lived their life behind the scenes

For when they did go out

The girls would all go crazy

And the world would twist and shout

Privacy came hard for them

They went four separate ways

These four young men from Liverpool

LIved life inside a maze.

It's sad that adulation

takes their freedom, makes them hide

But they're safer locked away from us

They're safer locked inside

Prisoners of their own success

Their world's  now micro-sized

Fan adulation to excess

Their love is just disguised

Their objects of affection

Live their lives inside a bubble

Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed

Could bring them worlds of trouble
Geno Cattouse  Jan 2013
Danny
Geno Cattouse Jan 2013
Hey Danny, I droped it twice but this one is just as nice
On the fly a small hummingbird on flittering wings just dusting the room
With dann dust and goodwill.

A quiver filled with curative pin point healing
She is wheeling and dealing
Danielle I presume is the full story.
Acufeel good. Feelgood ancient curative
Sent from the far east.

Miniature
Magic whipping about in sea blue scrubs
All good news .
Never gave me the bluesy tude.
Cool runnings miss danny.
Nuff respect.
A short poem for a big spirit. In. Small spirit
Country.
Seek and ye shall find I am inclined to believe
She has a good vibe.
Cool runnings hummingbird.
See you at the water cooler
Paul Butters  Jun 2017
Whisky
Paul Butters Jun 2017
Whisky, “The Water of Life”,
******* burning all down my chest.
Opening up my mind to endless imaginations
So I can put the world to rights
Like Superman in his pomp.

Feel that glow,
Spreading like a forest fire.
Feelgood Factor
Fathomless in its depth.

Who cares what peat, in what glens
Or valleys it came from.
Or what precipitation
Bathed those golden barley ears
On Celtic hillsides.

I’ll drink any Whisky,
Single or blend
White oak cask or not.
So long as it gives me that buzz
And blows my mind.
Inspiring the best
Or worst
In me.

Paul Butters
One of my favourite tipples.
JM Romig Apr 2015
Old gentle vague dark sea
stars uncoffined above
my drummer grave
blind of age,
meet Mr. Numb Feelgood
he is dying - chasing smoke,  
following a blind parade
wanderin’ anywhere forked like Yes
at every dusty, homely, strange-eyed landmark
until driven deep down dead

Dear old diamonds,
my sleepy southern song spell fades ,
my past was a young clown
dancing, swingin' my magic heels
raging and cursing death’s grip on time

Now, I feel that morning’s fierce burn
vanishing into a tambourine memory
and I’m caught madly dreaming
against the ragged anywhere
to return green tomorrow
This poem was composed primarily from words found in Bob Dylan's "Tambourine Man", Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", and Thomas Hardy's Drummer Hodge

NaPoWriMo
ConnectHook Dec 2016
you don't dare
unwrap the real gift
hidden under layers of hype
too hard to discover it
beneath mounds of plastic
under the glare of neon
falsities projected
aimlessly scrolling away your soul
Godless Yuletide  
Christless Noel
sterile feigned joy
useless worthless feelgood frenzy
sentimental superficiality
televised consumer fables
cute trendy on the screen
market-driven fakeries of fake snow
Mammon's medicated stress-fest
passive-aggressive goodwill
American commercialism
angelic Antichrist malls of lost souls
waiting for the next explosion
trying hard to feel the warmth
in the winter chill
of hearts hardened
against the Christ
of Christmas
unwrap the past
to find the present
in your sold-out future
Christ is Lord
Here we go again.
Where the hell is the Messiah ?
Could that be Him at the top of that tree?
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
god i love fiddling with Kant...
i still don't understand why
Nietzsche thought he was
a senile old bachelor in the end...

**** similis...
      the grand APE...

now...

    is the ape a creature:
a priori,

os is the ape a creature:
a posteriori?

then again, i was once accused
of speaking out of my own
*** by a slob Jew in
Edinburgh,
as i was also jested at
with the words
    'we'll crucify you'
at a UCL drama take on
the plight of the Palestinians...

**** me...
     motley crue dr. feelgood style...
i guess when the last of
the last Holocaust survivors
are dead...
  the gloves come off
and we can... rattle the bare-knuckle
slicks...

nope... i always preferred a drunkard's
slang to an ***-licking
            ****** addict's slack;
but don't get me wrong,
i could read a Burroughs' novel
in a day...
    just... drenched....
in (a) hypnotic chaos of juxtaposition;

frantic vagary...
like watching a **** of a fly
darting here and there;

p.s.
   (adjective & noun -
so, no... frantic vagary is not
a "misnomer"...
   it's a doubled emphasis).

ah... the benefits of acquired
rather than the native
usage of the, spreschen -
hen hen... no spre(h)-       -shen.
trf  Nov 2017
My Analog Heart
trf Nov 2017
Another haunt is arriving, feverishly fast tonight.
Somehow I managed to delay the feeling, briefly,
as it usually takes the manageable Subway and begins to fester around high noon, but today I skipped lunch,
and the feeling didn't go underground for her mode of transport.

"Maybe I hit the lotto?", I secretly questioned,
and the haunt would forget her requiem, passing over me
like those lucky "Kennedy Husbands" during the sixties' draft.
But I was getting divorced while all the other couples
were on a faster track heading in the opposite direction.

Tonight the haunt is traveling 248 mph,
on the Fùxīng Hào bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai, en route to Vietnam.

The conductor yelled, "All Aboard."
and as if that period denoted a punctual mark,
everyone manically crammed into the narrow vehicle.

The first influx of lovely passengers to board were,
Missus Anxiety, Sir Prior Transgressions and Dr. Heartache.
Unlike Dr. Feelgood,
They had been waiting in line from the previous night,
like those idiots for last week’s black Friday sale.

Mr. and Mrs. Payments Past Due cut in front of
Bills Esquire and Judge Job Insecurity,
for the Belmont Superfecta win, I guessed the right horses, just didn’t box my bet.

Congressman Careless and Deputy ******* nearly trampled Senator Surrender on the way through the turnstiles,
while Mayor Moan was flagged by security for groaning
and pulled aside for a pat down and wheelchair inspection.

The  Mayor was found to have ******* residue on his sleeve, but legitimate prescriptions for his aches and pains,
so TSA
wheeled him through the crack rocks

Analog veins pump analog blood to my analog heart;
traveling for the journey and not its hasty destination.  
My analog heart will eventually be shelved,
as it still salutes the Subway on its journey to my soul,
but like dusting off an old Coen Brothers flick,
my analog heart is still entertaining its vintage tick.
Martin Bailes Mar 2017
The rich get it good
oh yes they do ...
they don't send their
boys to die in foreign
wars that are usually
being fought in response
to some pressing $ value
for them & their friends
despite all the lies &
justifications coming
your way,


& they own the tv folks
that you & your buddies
absorb & who tell you of
a world that they wish
you to see & by design
also teaches of how others
are coming for you & you
are best off by voting
for another very rich man
who obviously can best
represent your interests
... quite obviously,

& having fooled you into
believing basic compassion
is communist in nature &
that really its every man
for himself in this vicious
world & that coal is good,
& climate change is cooked
up by the biased intelligentsia,
they can continue their base
pursuits & just keep on raking
it in,

& continually stressing that
anyone from this shining city
on a hill can make it big-time
like Riche Rich ignoring of course
basic facts such as class & race
or where you were born & into
which family of what colored
skin they have again succeeded
in their narrative of oh good
god how wonderful are we!
& lets just a keep on with the
way it is cos there's no alternative
really & any its close to Maoism,

& whilst all this is going on
they manage quite stealthily
in a way but perhaps also in
that great American tradition
of the sly feelgood huckster
they get you all seeing Jesus
through a salesman's eyes
as if Christianity was negotiable
in trade-offs & reservations &
justifications for bigotry, bias,
profit & shallow mercantile just
plain someone else making
a buck of you all,

& rich people get the best of
everything don't they really,
schools, hospitals, retirement
plans, all of which they fool you
into voting to cut, cut, cut,
which leaves you poorer folks
worse off & those rich folks
with just more gold coins to add
to their piles in off-shore accounts,
fancy real estate, & investment
portfolios,

its all pretty simple really,
they pretty much own
your *** & you keep
on a handing it
to them
don't you.
Even the daylight feels heavy on me and the clouds have conspired to cast weights on me, the sky is a slate grey and this is the way of it.

I need the safety of steel bars surrounding me so the people can stand and look in on me,
I hope that they don't try to set me free because
the burden I carry is too much for me.

There is lightness somewhere and it falls on me
in unfortunate blindness,
I cannot see,
so I fall on my knees and I make a plea
to the Lord of the heavens,
he don't hear me.

When days like this come along in tandem
I cry like a man and then whine​ some, but
my tears are acidic and
only make me feel more sick,
if only the weight didn't weigh on me.

I am happy,
I am
and I know it
even when I know and
can't show it,
but the weight that hangs on me
drags me down and
points only to misery.

I wonder if there is a feelgood factory
and could I be factored in
by some chemistry?
if so
would they bother to take the time
to takes these weights off
of mine before I'm dragged
deeper into this feeling
of misery.

— The End —