Placebo, baisse de régime?

Les vacances sont déjà loin, mais je commence à peine à me remettre de la déprime post-vacances.

Placebo a sorti son nouvel album il y a quelques mois, et cela fait donc quelques mois que j'étais en quête 1) d'une date de concert et 2) de gens qui veulent m'accompagner (je suis asociale, mais les concerts seule, je n'ai pas encore fait....).

Le groupe semblant au départ ne jouer que dans des festivals, j'avais abandonner l'idée de les voir. Les festivals sont une bonne idée, sauf quand vous prenez vos billets (chers) pour voir un groupe en particulier et que celui-ci vous plante (Hello Oasis at Rock en Seine!). Imaginez ma joie quand j'ai vu qu'ils joueraient à Paris, et en plus au Zénith.

Fausse joie quand j'ai vu que mes goûts musicaux n'était apparemment pas partagés. Entre les "c'est du rock pour midinette de 15 ans, j'aurais honte que mon mec y aille" (spéciale dédicace pour V.), le presque "c'est ça, on se rappelle, on se fait une bouffe " (ce qui veut dire diplomatiquement "oublie moi"), le "j'arrive, avec mon mec!" (là c'est moi qui coince...), et le classique "euh non merci", j'avais abandonné tout espoir. J'en étais arrivée au cynisme de proposer ça à un déjeuner au boulot (c'est pour dire quand la seule chose que je consens à dire sur ma vie privée au boulot est que j'ai passé un bon we), lorsque surprise, quelqu'un était intéressé (et non, ce n'était pas le boulet de service qui me draguait).

Coup de chance, une date avait été ajoutée, il restait des places, et deux personnes se sont rajoutées. En première partie, le groupe Expatriate, rien à dire dans un sens comme dans l'autre, mais comme ils sont australiens, ma subjectivité me fait dire qu'ils étaient bien.

Donc premier rayon de soleil depuis la rentrée!

Brian Molko est extraordinaire sur scène (on oubliera sa coupe de cheveux, qui me fait penser à beaucoup de mes propres expérience ratées), il tient le groupe sur ses épaules en terme de charisme (quoique le batteur est excellent comme musicien). Le troisième acolyte est sûrement un très bon élément mais je suis probablement plus charismatique que lui, c'est pour dire. En rock star wannabe, il est parfait.

En commençant par trois ou quatre chansons de leur nouvel album Battle for the Sun ( ce qui est légitime et commercial), Placebo n'incitait malheureusement pas le public à se mettre dans l'ambiance et à se déchaîner. Les gens viennent majoritairement voir Placebo en concert, et donc leurs "vieux" tubes, et non pas écouter leur nouvel album (étude statistique faite sur quatre personnes, dont moi, donc hautement fiable). L'ambiance a donc eu en conséquence beaucoup de mal à se réchauffer, malgré les nombreux tubes enchaînés. Musique dont je ne me lasse pas, chanteur définitivement talentueux, c'est dommage que le concert n'est pas mieux reflété ça.

Pour ceux qui ne connaissent pas (bizarre mon père -pourtant plutôt Nostalgie que Oui FM- les connaît, alors qu'au Canada, ils ne semblent pas être connus), voilà un de leurs grands succès (et oui les clips, comme pour Indochine, sont toujours extrêments bizarres, mais toujours fascinants).




Et ce qui est formidable et que le monde étant en circuit fermé permanent, on découvre grâce aux jeunes générations d'artistes les anciennes. De même que j'avais découvert la chanson The Man who sold the Word de Bowie grâce à Nirvana, Brian Molko m'a ouvert les yeux (oreilles?) sur Five years, toujours de Bowie. Ai-je le droit de dire que je préfère les reprises des jeunes générations?

A passer en boucle...

When it comes to fur

Still on the subject of fashion, I'm currently reading this great book titled Vintage Handbags. It does a wonderful job of presenting the history and evolution of bag styles of the 20th century. It is full of information about the different eras and how bags have evolved in conjunction with the fashion of the times. It helps that there are gorgeous pictures showing the predominant styles. Different designers from the well known to lesser known have their place in the book and its such a pleasure to learn all about this wonderful accessory. I haven't finished with it but I just had to share this great photo (above and just below for a closer look). Taken during the 70s, check out the bag casually swinging from the chic woman and the way she's dressed. The bag dates from 1974 (a most significant year!) and her style is described by the book as rural. I love the whole look, though I don't know if rural is quite the word to describe it. I love the turban style hat and the fur coat wrapped so casually around her. She looks warm and toasty and totally put together and not in a stuffy old lady way. I think even now, this look would work wonderfully.

This got me thinking about the current rage for fur. Yes, fur. Notwithstanding PETA and all other animal rights activists, the fashion industry hasn't quite given up its love of fur, as can be seen in the A/W 2010 looks. Politically incorrect as it may be to admit, there's something really nice about the current offerings. They look completely wearable and you gotta admit, probably really warm. And they go from day to night..

This one is a faux fur gilet (perfect for those who don't like the idea of real fur but still want to get on the trend) that works with jeans and dresses...

A slightly dressier style from the high street brand New Look...

This one takes you out to a fancy night out..maybe to a nice 2 star Michelin dinner or the opera?

And finally, a totally modern look....

I can't quite decide which I prefer---cool 70s look or the hip current look?

Vogue, Vogue

I love Vogue. There, right off the bat, I have to say that I look forward every month for my copy. I get worried whenever my delivery is late. And I think I'm not alone in this. For fashionistas (though I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a fashionista, at least not like the folks that the Sartorialist manages to find during his travels, but that's another post all together) all over the world, Vogue is the style bible and Anna Wintour the high priestess. Despite such standing, I dare say that not much is really known about the inner workings of either Vogue or Anna Wintour. That is, until “The September Issue”, R.J. Cutler’s new documentary on the subject. The is the making of Vogue’s September issue, generally regarded as the most important edition of the year. The crew follow Wintour and the rest of the Vogue staff, led by Creative Director Grace Coddington as they put together this issue. It is fascinating to watch how the Vogue team generates the finished product, from conceptualizing the features to shooting the cover. It is both instructive and hilarious to see the team dissect cover girl Sienna Miller, whose hair was described as lackluster and worse, deemed a touch too toothy by Wintour upon viewing the cover phot. More fascinating though is the way the different magazine features are conceptualized and the clashes that inevitably result between the creative team led by Coddington, a genius with images and the imperious Wintour with her uncanny talent of creating tight and well edited features. So we have memorable lines from Coddington like “so she (referring to Wintour) doesn’t think rubber is a texture” upon learning that Wintour had vetoed one of her photos featuring a rubber trench or “Pls don’t photoshop Tom’s tummy” when she learned that Wintour wanted to trim some excess fat from the stomach of the hapless and ordinary mortal they happened to include in one of the features. Despite of, or perhaps because of such creative clashes, readers get a magazine that is always fresh, interesting and very often with beautifully shot images.

And if the film follows Vogue for the making of only one issue, it does provide us with a welcome glimpse into Wintour herself. She is often icily reserved but we do get flashes of humanity. She doesn’t like black (throughout the film, we hear her agonizing over whether there is too much black in the pictures) and she does use her quite considerable influence to give a hand to young designers. It was Wintour who suggested Thakoon for an all important capsule collection for Gap, a move which helped put the young designer on the fashion map. We also see how much influence she yields, as when she tells fashion buyers and Conde Nast during a meeting, that she convinced Prada to lighten their highly embellished knee high socks, as apparently, the original designs weighed a ton!

For fans of Vogue and all things fashion related, The September Issue is undoubtedly one of those must see films!

Typiquement français

Mademoiselle Chambon est de ces films comme les Français savent si bien les faire: une heure et demi où en soi il ne se passe rien, et pourtant où émotionnellement il se passe beaucoup. Pour les non-français, c'est dur à comprendre. Pink Princess m'a d'ailleurs demandé de lui dire comment c'était parce que la bande-annonce donnait l'impression d'un film "weird".

Tiré d'un roman de Eric Holder (qui ne m'avait pas laissé comme auteur plus d'impression que ça, mais dont on m'avait cependant fait les louanges), Mademoiselle Chambon raconte l'histoire d'amour entre un maçon (Vincent Lindon) et l'institutrice de son fils (Sandrine Kiberlain).

Je ne peux pas dire que leur histoire d'amour m'est particulièrement convaincue, puisque les deux personnages ont peu en commun, et que leurs échanges sont assez limités. Mais je suis de toute façon réticente à croire au coup de foudre. En revanche la façon dont leur histoire est filmée, racontée, ressentie est extraordinaire. La composition des deux acteurs est excellente, et Aure Atika seconde leur performance parfaitement. Avec en arrière-pensée l'histoire personnelle de Sandrine Kiberlain et Vincent Lindon, leur jeu est d'autant plus bouleversant.

Ce n'est pas un film particulièrement gai, donc si vous cherchez une histoire d'amour à la happy end, il vaut mieux chercher du côté de The Proposal . Mais c'est touchant, sensible et subtil, et vaut définitvement le déplacement.

St. Tropez

Hard as it is to believe now, St. Tropez actually started out as one of those simple fishing villages along the Riviera. It acquired its name from a rather gruesome story. In AD 68 a Roman officer named Tropes was beheaded on Emperor Nero’s orders and was packed into a box with a dog and rooster to eat his remains. Miraculously, his remains washed up ashore completely intact and the villagers subsequently adopted him as their town’s patron saint. It would have remained just a picturesque little fishing town if Providence in the form of Roger Vadim hadn’t intervened. In 1958, Vadim shot the movie And God Created Woman, starring his then wife Brigitte Bardot and the rest as they say is history.

Needless to say there is a ritzy air about St. Tropez and during the height of summer, the town is filled to the rafters with the beautiful folk with their stupendous yachts and prices skyrocket to unimaginable heights. It’s almost ridiculously excessive and shouldn’t be taken too seriously. If you want to avoid the see and be seen crowd, the best time to come is after the season ends and the fancy yachts leave, when it becomes possible to walk around the little town and see its picturesque and less pretentious side. The locals too become much nicer and welcoming. Then it becomes a pleasure to sit and have a café glace at Café Senequier or indulge in the area’s speciality –the Tarte Tropezienne.

A walk along its quiet side streets reveals the St. Tropez that was once a fishing village. High upon the Citadel, you see the magnificent Bay laid out in all its glory. I shouldn’t also forget to mention that every Saturday, Place des Lices is taken over by its weekly market where you find among other things, beautiful cashmere shawls, provencal linens and local specialities. Its so much fun to wander about the stalls and I could easily spend hours there!

The rest of the week, the Place de Lices is a quiet shady place where you see people playing boules...
It turns into a jampacked market every Saturday....

And because we are still along the Riviera, a visit to the beach is part of the fun. We headed off to the Baie de Pampelonne with its 4 km stretch of sandy beach lined with exclusive restaurants and cafes. Easily a day could be spent just lazing about the beach and watching the more adventurous folks play with their jet skies. For me, a tall glass of juice in hand and a nice soft shady sun bed was all it took to complete my day.

Nice

If Corsica is still wild and untamed, Nice, arguably the Queen city of the famed Cote D’Azur is brash, cosmopolitan and worldly. Based on archaeological finds, Nice’s original settlers were Greek seafarers who had debarked from Marseilles. They named the city Nikaia to commemorate a sea victory. The Greeks were rapidly followed by Roman settlers and subsequently by the Italians. The city became definitively French in 1860 when Napoleon signed the Treaty of Turin with the House of Savoy. Isn’t it any wonder that Nice today is home to a diverse and cosmopolitan crowd and continues to welcome visitors from all over the world?

There is much to see and do in this city. But for a limited visit, one of the first things to do is to get a glimpse of the glittering Baie des Anges (Bay of Angels) and I daresay one of the best ways to do this is to climb up the 92 meter high Parc du Chateau which offers an unparalleled glimpse of the coast. Afterwards a stroll along the Promenade des Anglais is de riguer. How else can you admire the splendid Belle Epoque houses the line the waterfront? To add a truly decadent touch to your visit, pop in the Hotel Negresco, that grande dame of Nice’s hotels. It houses priceless art on its walls which, I suppose justify the hotel’s steep steep prices.

Here is the Parc where you can get a great view of the Baie....

Nice has a number of great museums worth visiting, notably the Matisse and Chagall museums but easily my favorite place is Vieux Nice with its twisty warren of streets and their beautiful Mediterranean colored houses. I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the quality of light falling on such colors that produce such pleasing luminosity to the eye that make it such a pleasure to just wander around without a specific destination in mind. The old town is a veritable labyrinth full of little hidden squares with restaurants and cafes serving all manner of Nicoise delicacies and specialities.

At the heart of the Old Town is the Cours Saleya with its famous Flower market and the Antique market that places every Monday. Here you can pick up all manner of collectibles, from linens to bric-a-brac to pieces of furniture. Both the sellers and visitors come from all over and there is a melange of different languages in the market. Its great way to plunge into Nice and its myriad charms!

The Cours Saleya at night....

This reminds me of the Christmas lanterns we have back in the Philippines...

Nice's antique market at the Cours Saleya...

Dynamiques de groupe

Les dynamiques de groupe sont extrêmement fascinantes. "L'enfer c'est les autres", c'est bien connu (et totalement avéré). Voilà pourquoi je me retrouve à passer mes soirées à regarder Lost (mieux que Loft Story quand même), et voilà pourquoi j'évite les vacances en groupes.

A propos d'Elly était donc fait pour moi. Un groupe d'amis accueille une "intrus" lors d'un week-end balnéaire. La disparition de ce nouvel élément pertubera leur équilibre. L'intrigue est finalement assez simple, tout comme le cadre (plus rustique que la maison, je n'ai pas encore vu).

Très bien filmé, très bien joué, le film recèle en plus un charme supplémentaire de par ses origines iraniennes. Certes un film est un film, donc la réalité doit être bien différente, mais A propos d'Elly permet de voir un aperçu de la culture irannienne (au moins pour une ignare comme moi).

Ce n'est pas un film facile, mais c'est un film plein de sensibilité. Il est dommage que la fin soit si vite traitée, cela donne à penser que le scénariste ne savait pas comment clôturer son intrigue.

Redemption

François Cluzet en tête d'affiche, c'est très alléchant. Ajoutez une histoire d'addiction, de rédemption et Mélanie Thierry, et le tour est joué.

Tiré du roman autobiographique d'Hervé Chabalier, actuel directeur de l'agence Capa et ancien reporter au Nouvel Obversateur, Le Dernier pour la route raconte son chemin pour se sortir de l'alcoolisme.

Le film ne semble pas avoir pour vocation de tire des larmes au spectateur, mais juste de le mettre face aux choix et aux chemins que la vie nous oblige à prendre et à suivre. On évite donc le sentimentalisme, ce qui ne veut pas dire que le film ne nous prend pas aux tripes. Ce n'est donc pas un film de divertissement, mais François Cluzet y brille (à mon humble avis) bien plus que dans Ne le dis à personne.