Pledge This

   Theoretically, it's to one's advantage when childhood friends embark on musical paths, so as to request of them, "Remember me when you're a goddamned rock star someday"

   Today, dear Tallulah Rendall is that friend for me. She's very good; more enchanting, off kilter and alluring than your average Girl With a Guitar. And her ethic cannot be underestimated. And so, I'm only to happy to create a post composed of some of her music and a link that details her quest to fund both the completion of her second album and creative endeavours by various artistic collaborators that will be inspired by individual songs from the record. Indeed, if like attracts like, then the visual aspect alone will be worth the contribution

   I've always been fond of the phrase, "Grass Roots Movement," and as for promotion, of self or otherwise, well... Mode Parade exists, no? Let's see if we can't bring this to life

http://www.pledgemusic.com/projects/tallulahrendall

Re-framed

   Even in Accra, I can occasionally cast a look at the eyeframe wares of certain "status" designers whose security is shored up by the prepotency of luxury conglomerates. "I paid this much; I know I got the best!" is not a considered stance to take with one such as I, rarely capable as I am of holding back and able to gracelessly break all but the most well made of sunglasses. Every time I popped the left lens into my old Ray Ban aviators 3 years ago, I would ponder that Luxottica have much to answer for

   Good craftsmanship is that which I cannot irreparably ruin, these days. Give some of these much advertised pieces six months and the hinges of these desirable commodities will have an ease of movement comparable to that of a swing door; an unpopular analogy I'm always ready to deliver to their owners. No wonder they usually respond by attempting to pocket my own

   I like to seek out current eyeframes of quality; Colette normally has an interesting selection of brands to proffer its clientele. I've recently been recommended Thierry Lasry's offerings, which, like particular eyewear lines that promise an attention to quality, are said to be handmade; Lasry's native France is his fabrication ground. His output has not gone unnoticed beyond its consumption; indeed, the Institut Français de la Mode presided over by Pierre Bergé, Yves Saint Laurent's former partner, appointed Lasry as its industry consultant to its students when it branched into eyewear creation in 2008. Lasry's unusual vision of high-class, 1970s-derived frames has also made him a darling within Los Angeles' mode circles. In a nod to his surname, the name of each frame ends in 'y':

Battery

Attracty

Spready

Vulgary

   Ralph Vaessen also holds some interest - less for his designs and more for his atelier's handcrafting in buffalo horn, which, at the very least, allows him to command a luxury price point and offer lightweight, firm creations. The Dutchman favours relative simplicity and familiar styling: certainly, his is a line for those under the unfortunate categorisation of "stealth wealth":

Spyker

Katarina

   Rapp Limited, originating from Toronto, is also created and hand finished by an atelier operation. The product is rather clinical yet vivid in its presentation; a type to suit superficially detached gallerists and architects, perhaps. Like Cutler and Gross, I think they do very well to promote an expensive form of geek chic:

Burt

Both via Vintage Frames Company

3374

Rosalind

Franca

   With such detailing and assurances, I look forward to trying out these brands in person once I'm ready to resume my itinerancy

The Stephanie Rushton Portrait Shoot Bonus

www.stephanierushton.com

Psych Couture

That Heat

   I hate summer time

   It has precisely little value outside of its voyeuristic cachet. The mixture of loss of inhibitions and sensible practicality that leads to pleasing feminine visions also results in disgusting visuals of cross-gender partial nudity that gouge into the mind for the longest time. Lord knows why you all love to throw your clothes off and cavort around open spaces, frolicking without the mess


   I have an outstanding request from one reader to advise on dressing for intemperate climes such as the one we share here in Accra. Presently, the sun has rendered me insensible; there's an ice cream headache waiting for me whenever I move to overturn these circumstances in my favour. Yes, I have air conditioning. And yes, it consistently gives me a nasty cold


   For the sake of my aesthetic theory, there are usually few photographs of my summerwear; to dress for the occasion, I normally sport something elegant in black that also functions as a fitting expression of self:

   All in all, I’d rather be in Iceland


   However, request my presence at a gathering with a British Summer Time theme and the topmost photo is the result. It's intended as pastiche only, with the mode owing more than minimal guidance to the photographic submissions section of The Chap. My ramie Junya Watanabe jacket, one of the few lightweight designs that can be comfortably sported above 25 degrees, deserves better than such purposeful irony. The artifice makes it wrinkle faster


   One's summer jacket is a garment for pleasure because your dress options remain open. That Panama, the linen scarf, the silk neckerchief, the correspondents, the open-necked psychedelic shirt, the tasteful eyeframes, the go-to-Hell trousers in M&M palettes; it's a framework that has lasted almost a century but there's a protean manner of stretching it if one loves a challenge


   For all my scepticism, I like the idea that summer is a two or so month-long Traffic Light Party for gentlemen. Consider it; sun and insensibility - what else should encourage a sartorial frolic in primary colours?


   I'll be going Green

Neil & Iraiza - 'Wednesday' (2002)

It's elegant listening

Cut Down

   Perhaps a compounding factor in my reaction to the sad event of ex-Gang Starr rapper Guru's death is that he passed on whilst still hugging his grudge against his former partner, hip hop creative legend DJ Premier

   There's a natural disappointment to seeing such fertile partnerships dissolve into acrimonious ruin; nevertheless, everything has its time and Gang Starr certainly had theirs. Premier's prolific approach to furnishing artists with his output will certainly fly the group's flag for time to come, whether indirectly or not

   There is a hint of artistic ruin to Guru's end, unfortunately - the alleged amount of control over his affairs that was entrusted to MC Solar has more than a tinge of addle-minded desperation that also suggests some paranoia. I don't like to speculate on the personal circumstances of the newly dead, however

   Rhyming skills are in a dearth of supply today; hip hop is assuredly lesser without his capabilities. Find peace, fellow; we'll always have Jazzmatazz

Supergrass - 'We Still Need More (Than Anyone Can Give)' (1998)

"Because here it comes

Here it comes"

   Last week delivered the news that Supergrass, previously enjoying a certain veneration within the canon of Britpop survivors turned good, had opted to part ways. And so, I opt to remember them in song; one of their own, of course

   I'm perennially drawn to any form of underdog and so my choice is one not fondly recalled by the band itself, although that opinion may also be symptomatic of an unfondly remembered experience. A rerecording of a b-side during their second album's campaign, behind the boards are the Dust Brothers - John King and Michael Simpson - helmers of the ever-memorable Paul's Boutique by the Beastie Boys and Odelay! by Beck. Bearing the provenance of two of my favourite albums, this song would always receive an open-minded first listen from me. When last viewed, my iTunes displayed a listening count in the 50s - considering my mp3 files number in the thousands, that represents an addiction by my standards. Of course, optimistic itinerancy as fetching, upbeat song does easily fixate me

   'We Still Need More...' has place of pride with the various listeners of the soundtrack to the MTV Films-produced black comedy Dead Man On Campus, for which it was commissioned. The Dust Brothers irregularly supplied various films with original music around this period and produced around half of the soundtrack, for which they also served as executive producers. The following year, their facility for pop cultural anthropology through hip hop and electronic music would deliver one of my favourite ever scores for one of my favourite ever films, Fight Club

   The juxtaposition of vocalist Gaz Coombes' glam rock propensities with the surf rock flirtations of the backing exemplify the Dust Brothers' easy approach to recombinant genre play; it's to their advantage that the band had already written a strong enough song that could paper over any potential production missteps. However, responsible as King and Simpson were for encouraging scores of white men to sing over any "classic" hip hop breakbeat, indirectly or otherwise, their own approach was always far more nuanced, unprejudiced and witty than the obvious and capricious takes offered by their followers

   Its greatest trick is not that it is a Beck-like song that sounds expressly like a Supergrass one but that it sounds like a song produced by the Dust Brothers and still - due to the fact that it is augmented rather than outright altered - very much the creation of a band; a pleasing irregularity when Supergrass' own feeling was that they lacked control over its recording. Besides, all sounds better with strings

   As for Supergrass, a reunion would not be unanticipated

A Dream Within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream? 

- "for Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes. And Barbara with infinite love as I falter on the road to Ithaka." Edgar Allan Poe, 1849