You will all know his ultra-glam, ultra-glossy, porcelain faced models in various thros of emotion even if you don’t know the techni-colour photogs name, yet. A few posts back I spammed a few of my favourite things which accompanied 2 of my favourite fashion images ever. The photog himself, Miles Aldridge has a new exhibition opening at one of fashions main arteries, Somerset House. The exhibition is called “I only want you to love me..” and looks explosively fun and decadent.
10 July – 29 September 2013
Embankment Galleries East, South Wing
£6 (£4.50 concessions), £3 on Mondays (excluding Bank Holidays)
“Women and colour are Aldridge’s twin obsessions. His work is filled with glamorous, beautiful women from dazed housewives and decadent beauties to sunbathing sexpots and ecstatic Virgins. Luscious colours dazzle from every image – blood red ketchup splashes against a black and white floor; a mouth drips with gold; egg yolk oozes across a plate. But the technicolour dream world of seemingly perfect women with blank expressions belies a deeper sense of disturbance and neurosis. Look more closely and there is silent screaming, a head pushed down on a bed, a face covered in polythene, a woman pushing an empty swing.”
Book you ticket here before it sells out..
I watched this documentary on BBC iplayer last night and it got me thinking about cash and nudie dancing. I reckon I could indulge in a little bit of this action if it meant being student-debt free. I mean, I love to sexy dance and doing it in the local Boogie Lounge on random Mondays sure as hell doesn’t cut it, especially with the slut labels labels flying around as soon as me and my gals are bumpin’ and grindin’ to the latest Rihanna tune. However, the whole thing does leave me with an unpleasant, sicky feel in my stomach.
I’m caught in limbo with my feelings: a strip club when run like a money machine business can be empowering yet the way the men ogle the women’s bits is total degrading. Apparently the girls in this documentary are supposed to look like a million dollar lady but they all come off a bit Vegas/Tranny to me. I think I would pioneer a more upper class stripper look; all pearls, blow-dries and AP lingerie – think the models in the new Robbie Thickie, Pharrell Video – Blurred Lines. Do posh men even like strippers?
As far as the big question over am I a feminist if I I don’t take offence to strippers I am undecided. It’s an ever revolving debate I have with my inner Riot Girl. One thing is clear, these women think the men are idiot perverts with a cash machine in their pant, and guess what, they’ve got the pin number! CHA CHING!