"I don't really get into the really perfected style of dress. I'm not a doll and I don't want to dress like one - that aesthetic doesn't seem real. I like a bit of reality, scruffy hair, bitten nails, last night's make-up. Elegantly dishevelled - people can think you're not making the effort but that's the art of it, it may actually be vainer than being totally groomed, but probably more fun." - Luella Bartley in Lula magazine
Each fashion label has a special type of character or "girl" that represents their brand. Versace is the flashy woman who holidays in Miami. Prada is the intellectual who would much rather you ask her about politics than where her shoes are from. Alexander Wang is a cool girl with tomboy style and a penchant for partying. Marc Jacobs is Sofia Coppola. But my favourite is the playful Luella girl, who wears a pretty prom dress to the supermarket, teamed with scruffy hair, old pearls and a charmingly awkward demeanor. Think granny chic cardigans, ladylike Liberty print florals, preppy jackets; think punk mixed with Sloane Ranger styling and think of MTV host Alexa Chung, the poster girl for the quirky idiosyncratic Luella look. The designer herself, Luella Bartley, described her clothes best when she said they were "the kind of clothes you can get drunk and fall over in". The Luella girl isn't precious, she wears her clothes to have fun in.
And shouldn't that be what fashion is all about?
It's this realistic, scruffy and "elegantly dishevelled" aesthetic that has seen the Luella label become one of the more popular British brands of late - and why it was so shocking to hear last week that the label had ceased trading after their financial backer had pulled out.
Fashion land and bloggers immediately went into a tailspin, with the overwhelming response being something along the lines of, "OH MY GOD noooooooooooooooo!". The Guardian fashion team even wrote a little poem to showcase their sadness, writing, "how will our lives continue now we know / That label of uncommon charm is gone? / Alas, alack! / Bring back / The polka dots that once adorned my heart".
Girls adore Luella, you see, because it's both scruffy and ladylike, a bag of contradictions, much like women themselves. Of course, Luella isn't the only label to mine this whimsical, quirky girl aesthetic. Sretsis has a similar sugary sweet look, with a love of ruffles, pretty frocks, polka dots and Grandma-inspired pieces. Marc Jacobs used to be all about the understated wallflower until he went all shiny and buffed. Locally there's Karen Walker's clash of the masculine and feminine and constant love of the "awkward outsider", and Lonely Hearts' autumn/winter 2010 collection features polka dots, oversized mohair cardigans, pastel "Sunday best" style dresses and even a selection of scrunchies. Maw is another local label that channels quirkiness; the current in-store collection includes frilly tulle dresses, oversized polka dots, overalls and rompers. And though each of these labels has their own unique take on the look, they're all about celebrating imperfection, being unfinished and slightly off-kilter. Because who wants to dress like a doll? Does anyone else find those women who are perfectly put together - perfect tan, weekly blow wave, clothes that never crumple, a gluten-free diet - slightly unsettling?
At the time Viva went to print, the future of Luella was still uncertain. Bartley has said she has a number of options, and the fashion world spent the week crossing fingers, toes and everything else in the hope that someone would step up and financially back the label. Here's hoping the elegantly dishevelled Luella girl continues to live on, and not just in spirit.
Reality check
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