Allegra Caro

My signature style: The Famous Red Trench Coat

When I was a child, I had a dream: I wanted to be an old Hollywood actress.

Yes, I know. You are not allowed to be one unless you have got a time machine, right? Well, that is only a little insignificant detail when you are eight years old. And as Scarlett O´Hara once said, I used to repeat myself: I’ll think about it tomorrow.

Unlike most children, I did not wish to become a ballerina or an astronaut but to be like one of those glamorous ladies on the movies my mother watched every weekend. I was fascinated by Anne Baxter in The Ten Commandments, and Dietrich in Shanghai Express.

I loved everything about them: their elegance, strength, expressiveness… and of course their style. I held my breath when they wore silky dresses, berets, or those iconic forties trousers, and I naively thought that someday I would look just like them. Oh, the youth foolishness!

The funny part is, as much I liked everything from the ’20s to the ’50s, I LOATHED everything from the ’60s onwards. And I especially disliked trench coats with a passion. To me, they were old pretty things Brigitte Bardot would wear in some sad French film. Nobody would style them in a classy way in the twenty-first century, though – and consequently, they were pointless.

Many years afterwards, while living in London, I frequently spent my cold October mornings navigating through South Kensington on my way to V&A, where I would happily wander for hours. There, I crossed paths with many chic Londoners who were completely proficient on the trench coat styling department. I slowly started realizing it was not required to be a Bardot – or a Dietrich, or a Hepburn for the matter – to look good on a trench coat (hey, who would have guessed, right? Mind-blowing!)

And one fine day I entered Debenhams, tried on a very nice one… and had the biggest disappointment EVER. I am quite sure this is not what you were expecting, but it is what happened. The aforementioned trench coat, so elegant and flawless on the hanger, looked like a potato sack on me and the rich camel tone made my skin look like sour milk someone forgot on the kitchen counter for about two weeks… Such a lovely image, isn’t it? Needless to say, I left the shop at once and never came back.

And then, approximately one year ago, I was Vintage shopping in Budapest with my husband: on a certain second-hand shop, there was a women trench coat section with some nice designer pieces and I decided to give them a second chance. I found a decently preserved Dolce and Gabbana specimen, and although I did not buy it due to the size being slightly too small for me, I finally fell in love with the concept.

Actually, I changed my mind so much about it that any time we find a trench coat while shopping I adopt an entirely new personality. Sebastian refers to it as Possession, though… “LOOKZ!” I would invariably say, “It´s a trenchcoat! Can I have it? Can I?” And I would keep repeating so until my I would try it on or leave the place for good.

Last year I started incorporating new elements to my style on a still work in progress process to define it. One of the finest investment pieces I decided to add was this red trench coat which I love to wear with a black pencil dress. It is versatile, it can be toned down with some flats for a casual look, and the pop of colour makes any outfit interesting enough. It can be worn in a classic/retro way, but it is truly timeless. Plus, it is RED. Like, the perfect poppy colour tone I die for.

I am still not an Old Hollywood actress (C’est la vie, I guess) but I am quite sure that most of them would approve the trench coat.

Trench Coat: Heidi Klum (old). Similar one at Burberry.

Dress: Poema/ Shoes: Top Shop / Bag: Deichmann

December 5, 2018December 5, 2018

Allegra Caro25 Comments

Sexo en Nueva York: lecciones que desaprender en su 20 aniversario

¿Sabes esa sensación de vértigo en el estómago, seguida de palpitaciones y sudor frío que experimentas cuando algo desagradable te coge por sorpresa? Pues leyendo el otro día este artículo de Vogue, tuve uno de esos ataques repentinamente: al parecer (¡horror de horrores!) han pasado ya veinte años desde el estreno de Sexo en Nueva York.

Tras recuperarme del susto inicial —cosa que me llevó algo más de media hora y una dosis de helado que jamás admitiré públicamente— tuve que aceptar lo inevitable; puede que en 1998 aún llevase coletas, pero la mujer del espejo tiene ahora alguna línea de expresión y, como prometía Gardel, veinte años no son nada.

La verdad es que echando la vista atrás (y tras un número algo embarazoso de re-visionados) se impone el admitir que Sexo en Nueva York ha envejecido un poco peor que yo, y desastrosamente en comparación con la propia Sarah Jessica Parker. Y si bien sigue siendo una historia hilarante en la que deleitarse una tarde de pereza cualquiera, algunas de las lecciones vitales que a finales de los años 90 resultaban modernas e incluso reveladoras, se han quedado algo anticuadas y desprenden incluso un sutil aroma rancio, como a vestidor mal aireado. Quizás el tiempo transcurrido tenga algo que ver, o quizás sea sólo el propio acto de madurar y ver las cosas desde una perspectiva algo más cínica. Sea como fuere, las aventuras de Carrie Bradshaw y las otras sospechosas habituales se me antojan ahora un poco menos espontáneas, menos libres de prejuicios y clichés de lo que yo las recordaba.

A diferencia de la fantástica Julia Felsenthal en su artículo de Vogue, yo nunca quise parecerme a la amiga Carrie. No porque no la considerase glamurosa o absurdamente sofisticada, sino porque sus niveles de auto-sabotaje emocional me inspiraban el más paralizante de los terrores. Tuve tiempo, desde luego, de cometer mis propios deslices y sucumbir a una o dos liaisons que me pasaron factura en su debido momento, pero salí de ellas razonablemente indemne y decidida a evitar a toda costa a los Mr. Big que pueblan el mundo. Y esto me lleva a la primera de todas las lecciones que en mi opinión deberíamos desaprender de S.N.Y.

El amor todo lo conquista

Esta idea tan bonita, tan edulcorada, recubierta de purpurina y horas del perfecto metraje de Hollywood, tiene su encarnación más despiadada en la malsana relación entre Carrie y su sofisticado ejecutivo. Salen, rompen, engañan a la inocente esposa (a la que deshumanizan basándose en la cruel noción de que, después de todo, sólo es una modelo) para volver a cortar y terminar juntos en un ridículo final parisense. Como si esta historia de dolor y humillación no fuese suficientemente perturbadora, asistimos al repetido proceso de auto-vejación que la buena de Charlotte York se inflige en la búsqueda del perfecto príncipe republicano. Al menos para Charlotte la historia termina bien: el abogado con el que se casa carece de modales o esa cuenta bancaria soñada, pero la trata como a un ser humano. A fin de cuentas, es más de lo que la frecuentemente envidiada Carrie consigue.

Desde luego que las demás secuaces de esta glamurosa pandilla no se quedan atrás, pero por lo menos parecen algo más dueñas de sí mismas. Se podría decir que las repetidas aventuras sexuales en las que se ven envueltas las convierten en mujeres liberadas de prejuicios, hasta que una se da cuenta de que no lo están tanto…

Esa cosita llamada Bifobia

Sorprende que habiendo sido concebida por Darren Star, frecuente portavoz ficcional de la comunidad gay, encontremos sesgos claramente bifóbicos en esta serie. Aquel episodio en el que Alanis Morrissette besaba a Carrie podría haber sido uno de los más memorables, pero se quedó en una declaración de prejuicios en toda regla. ¿Hay algo más apolillado que definir con frívolo desdén una orientación sexual como una fase pasajera? La falta de diversidad resulta, como mínimo, sospechosa; y no hablo sólo del sexo.

La inexistente cuestión del multiculturalismo

Y a esto quería llegar: hablando de prejuicios incomprensibles, ¿soy la única persona a la que le parece raro que en una serie ambientada en Nueva York (cuna indiscutible del multiculturalismo) todos los personajes protagonistas sean blancos? En concreto y muy a pesar de mi agrado hacia nuestro girl squad, no puedo dejar de preguntarme por qué todos sus miembros son mujeres caucásicas. ¿Es que las mujeres asiáticas o hispanas de Manhattan no merecen ser representadas? ¿O hay algo intrínsecamente clasista en no retratar a una mujer racializada comprando en Manolo Blahnik?

Me gustaría poder decir que en 2018 las cosas son muy distintas, pero basta con echar un vistazo a otras series del estilo (evoquemos Girls, por ejemplo) para percatarnos de que ciertos prejuicios son tan difíciles de eliminar como una mancha de Merlotte de tu vestido favorito.

El síndrome de Peter Pan

No menos pegajosa es la frecuente infantilización de nuestras heroínas en la que los guionistas caen con frecuencia. Recuerdo con especial rencor ese episodio en el que Carrie tiene un imprevisto financiero y está a punto de acabar en la calle. Hasta aquí, podríamos decir, todo normal. A fin de cuentas, ¿quién está completamente a salvo de un tropezón o una racha de mala suerte? Excepto, quizás, porque Carrie ni siquiera sabe cuánto dinero se ha gastado en zapatos. No me lo estoy inventando.

De verdad, ¿vais a hacernos creer que una mujer adulta no sabe sumar? Una mujer de Manhattan, en 1998. No tengo más que alegar, señoría.

Podría continuar largo rato hablando de los coletazos de Transfobia en aquel capítulo en el que Samantha se muda al mercado de la carne, los estereotipos sobre la comunidad gay, el clasismo descarado de los personajes etc. Pero prefiero parar aquí, antes de que este artículo transcienda esa categoría para ir a transformarse en un manifiesto.

A pesar de todo, esa no es la intención con que lo he escrito.

Para bien o para mal, Sexo en Nueva York forma parte de mi vida, como de la muchas otras personas que participaron de ese breve periodo dorado de la televisión que fue el fin de los años 90.

Quizás estemos ante un icono de la cultura pop al que se ha sobrevalorado durante demasiado tiempo; quizás por el contrario sea una modesta pieza de arte sobre la naturaleza humana en el siglo XX. Lo más seguro es que la respuesta esté a medio camino entre ambas.

Puede que tengamos que esperar otros veinte años para poder juzgarlo.

December 3, 2018December 3, 2018

Allegra Caro2 Comments

Confessions of a Vogue addict

I am going to tell you a story — most of it is true.

It could have happened to anyone: to a Jewish schoolgirl living in Newark, to a shy working-class girl from La Butte Aux Cailles. However, for the good or the bad, it happened to me.

This tale starts with a box in the garret.

During last Spring cleaning I found a mysterious container in one of the top shelves (no identification tags to be seen) and when I tried to grab it, a totally unexpected glitter shower fell down all over me. Now, I have no idea where the glittery dust came from exactly, and I can only suppose it was closely related to some Christmas decorations stored in the same room but, in any case, I spent the next ten minutes brushing myself until I finally managed to open the aforementioned box.

Anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I have a soft spot for drama: my restless mind was already anticipating a shocking find, which could only leave me speechless and knocking on the doors of my own Gothic novel. After all, many great stories start with a girl finding something in the attic, don’t they? So I was disappointed, to say the least, when I simply found a pile of old magazines inside — thank you, Guillermo Del Toro, for my huge expectations regarding mystery tales and Tom Hiddleston on tight pants… But, where was I? Oh, yes: the box.

The secret was a bundle of about 40 Vogue Magazines, an entire lifetime in Fashion terms.

Some of them were my own, some were second-hand donations from friends. I had been putting off organization indefinitely, looking for a nice spot to display them on the living area, and then completely forgetting about their existence. I thought it was time to finally do it, and started dusting the pile a bit while flicking through. Before I realized, I had left the cleaning plans aside and was sitting Indian-style, a teacup in one hand, an old 2002 Vogue magazine in the other.

For some reason, there was something in the whole scene — the attic at dusk, the oversized ancient jumper I wore, the exhaustive look at the pictures — which made me feel nostalgic. But what was the source of such a mood?

I began thinking about the familiar feeling, a fragile Déjà vu of my school days, and suddenly it all hit me like a tidal wave: I was twelve years old and compulsively reading a pile of borrowed Vogue issues. I could see myself sitting in the exact same position, wearing long braids and a plaid pinafore dress. Memory was so vivid I could almost touch it with the fingertips.

It all looked so similar, but also so different. By the time of my flashback vision, as I said, I was no older than twelve and had just moved to a new little town with my mother and sister. We lived in a 60 square meters flat above a shabby corner store, my parents had just divorced and I felt the unhappiest young human being. Puberty is not the best moment for such radical changes in the state of affairs, since nature is already playing its own little tricks — I still frown upon the memory when I recall I was the tallest girl in the class, the one with the biggest knee bones, not a clue on how to walk gracefully on those new giant doe-like legs. As a consequence, my (very nice) schoolmates used to call me Betty Spaghetty…

Coming of age drama, anyone? It was a bit like The Virgin Suicides, only without all the flawless blonde hair, and fabulous white gowns, and obsessed boys. It was… well, ineffably plain, to be honest. And then it did happen.

My mum, who was also having a bad time to readjust, made a new friend.

He was an aspiring fashion designer — young, restless and absolutely gay. Also, he was the first sophisticated person I ever met. Every Saturday evening, rain or shine, he would come home with a few Italian films and fashion magazines, and we would spend the night chatting, watching Mastroianni masterpieces and sharing Chinese food.

And finally, one fine November Saturday, he brought a bag full of Vogue magazines.

It was the first time I saw one (provincial town girls rarely had any chance to get it in the local newsstand, anyway), and immediately felt in love with all those 90s goddesses from the Vogue magazine covers owning the catwalk — you did not know what chic meant until you saw Naomi Campbell on purple satin for Anna Sui. I spent the whole weekend checking them, and got a new pile next week, the week after that. Suddenly, my life expanded: there were no more lonely after-school evenings; instead, I got an effective shield made of designer dresses, lively colours and glamour. A whole entire universe of my own which no one could destroy.

It took me some time to realize how bitter-sweet my fantasy was. For a little working-class girl, there were very little chances to ever access the gilded heaven of haute couture. And then, I started thinking it would never be possible to incorporate sophistication to my own life.

Vogue gave me something to dream about, but was it possible to keep that dream alive?

As I entered adolescence, I lost all faith.

I stopped reading fashion magazines and watching classic movies. All those things belonged to the past — the lost paradise, the Arcadia of my own candidness. By fifteen, I had become a solipsist. When I started university, I was a fully-fledged nihilist.

But then again, I made new friends. We started going out together, having cheap cocktails and attending European cinema festivals. We met up at poetry lectures, and jazz clubs. We developed a taste for fine culture. And one early morning (on my way back from some party) I stopped to get me a takeaway coffee in the campus surroundings, and they were selling Vogue. It was like meeting an old good friend.

Like the glitter in my hair, you can try to brush out something you loved, but it will stick to you for some time. That morning, I finally accepted there are many forms of sophistication, many of them more subtle than a 10,000 euros Delacroix jacket.

From that moment, the twelve years old and the undergraduate made peace.

The woman who writes this is now in her thirties and does not care if she can buy the latest Tom Ford dress. Instead, she loves vintage and second-hand, visiting every gallery while traveling and yes, classic movies.

She is still looking for a place to display the pile of Vogue magazines gracefully, but for now, they live in the parlor library.

Downstairs.

November 29, 2018November 29, 2018

Allegra Caro15 Comments

Cómo encontrar tu estilo personal (sin morir en el intento)

Audrey Hepburn, Frida Kahlo, Dita von Teese.

Probablemente estés pensando qué tienen en común estas tres mujeres tan dispares entre sí. Si nos preguntan, la mayoría estaríamos de acuerdo en que todas ellas han destacado en su campo profesional de manera brillante, y en que todas ellas se han convertido también en iconos de la moda.

Sin embargo, resulta paradójico que ninguna se preocupase por seguir la estética predominante de su época, ni adaptarse a sus corrientes stricto sensu.

¿Por qué se las considera iconos entonces?

Al proclamar que estas mujeres son iconos de la moda, lo que en realidad queremos decir es que son iconos del estilo. Pero ¿cuál es la diferencia?

La moda, podríamos argüir, es el arte del vestido y una de sus principales características es que su naturaleza es cambiante. Seguir los dictados de la moda significa renovarse en cada estación. El estilo, por el contrario, es de naturaleza perenne.

Una persona con estilo evoca la imagen de un uniforme: no me refiero a una bata blanca, claro, pero hay algo inequívocamente identificable en el aspecto de alguien estiloso.

Si hablamos de Audrey Hepburn, nos vienen a la mente un flequillo, vestidos de vuelo, bailarinas y pantalones Capri; al pensar en Frida imaginamos colores brillantes, flores exóticas, cuentas de madera y elaborados chales bordados; si sacamos a colación a Dita von Teese, pensamos en una singular combinación de vintage, stilettos, y labios rojo sangre. Cada una de ellas, por tanto tiene su uniforme.

La ventaja del estilo frente a la moda es que no exige una continua transformación. En lugar de ello, se trata de celebrar las cosas que te hacen ser quién eres.

¿Pero cómo puedes encontrar tu estilo personal?

Si eres como yo, probablemente te has encontrado en algún punto con un armario lleno de ropa y absolutamente nada que ponerte. Esto ocurre cuando renuevas tu vestuario regularmente pero no eres selectiva. Alguna gente nace con un instinto natural. A las que no somos tan afortunadas nos toca trabajar en ello, pero hay algunos pasos que pueden hacernos la vida más fácil.

1. Organiza el armario

Empieza por sacar TODO lo que hay dentro porque vas a necesitar probártelo. Sí, ya lo sé. Dependiendo de cuánta ropa hayas acumulado puede parecer una tarea hercúlea, pero la manera más rápida de saber qué cosas te gustan y te favorecen requiere el esfuerzo. Al hacerlo, te darás cuenta de qué prendas llevan colgadas una eternidad sin que les des ningún uso. Puede resultar un poco desalentador, pero por mucho que gastases en ese vestido o esos zapatos, si no te los has puesto una sola vez, es mejor decirles adiós y hacer sitio para ropa que sí vayas a usar.

Tómate tu tiempo en analizar qué prendas te gustan, cuáles odias y, sobre todo, cuáles te hacen sentir “tú”. Al terminar este proceso estarás un paso más cerca de entender mejor qué prendas básicas echas en falta y qué errores no deberías volver a cometer.

2. Pinterest es tu nuevo mejor amigo

Personalmente, considero Pinterest una fuente inagotable de inspiración, ya que puedes guardar lo que otra gente ha posteado, pero también material de referencia que hayas encontrado online gracias al botón que puedes instalar en tu propio navegador.

Crea un tablero para ideas de estilo y guarda en él todo lo que te guste o llame tu atención (por si tienes curiosidad, puedes seguirme aquí). Cuando hayas acumulado las suficientes imágenes, te recomiendo sentarte con una taza de té y comenzar a analizar tus pines. Al cabo de un rato probablemente te des cuenta de que hay un patrón: quizás haya guardado una gran cantidad de looks formales, o casuales, o prendas de un mismo tipo. Yo por ejemplo caí hace un tiempo en que guardaba gran cantidad de vestidos lenceros, faldas de tul y looks que se podrían definir como “sofisticados”. Cuando hayas encontrado el patrón, es posible que estés lista para pasar al siguiente punto de la lista…

3. Hora de comprar

Saca bolígrafo y papel (o el teléfono, o abre un documento en Google Drive) y haz una lista de las prendas básicas que echaste en falta al organizar el armario y de las que consideres clave tras analizar tu tablero de Pinterest. En este punto te recomiendo hacer un poco de trabajo de campo. Investiga diferentes tiendas online, compara precios y calidades. También deberías establecer un listado de las tiendas que se adaptan mejor a tu nuevo estilo: si eres minimalista quizás deberías echas un vistazo en Zara, si te gusta el retro, googlea Top Vintage, si buscas saldos de marca puede que te interese Zalando… y así sucesivamente.

4. Apps especializadas

Ahora que has invertido tiempo, dinero y esfuerzo en reformar tu fondo de armario, probablemente no quieres ni oír hablar de caer en los viejos malos hábitos. Para prevenirlo, una solución es instalarte algunas de las aplicaciones especializadas en gestión de vestuario. Mi favorita es Your Closet, pero hay gran variedad de aplicaciones similares que te permiten escanear el contenido de tu armario y después elaborar conjuntos con estas prendas. No sólo te ayuda a organizarte mejor, si no que te permite visualizar la totalidad de su armario sin tener que abrirlo siquiera.

5. La cohesión lo es todo

Puede que de vez en cuando te encapriches de alguna pieza que se sale del estilo que has establecido. No pasa nada. No se trata de establecer normas rígidas, y si realmente crees que puedes integrar esa prenda en tu vestuario no hay ningún inconveniente. Sin embargo, el consejo más importante que debes recordar es la cohesión. Cuando desarrollas un estilo personal, las diferentes prendas se combinan casi por sí mismas, lo que se hace tu vida mucho más fácil y te ahorra tiempo y dolores de cabeza.

Si has continuado leyendo hasta aquí, quiero darte solamente otro consejo: desarrollar un estilo personal, debería ser siempre divertido y algo completamente ajeno a cuestiones tales como la presión. Experimenta y no tengas miedo de equivocarte porque es parte de la totalidad del proceso.

November 26, 2018January 13, 2019

Allegra Caro7 Comments

The lingerie Morals (Why wearing fine lingerie doesn’t make you dummy)

We like to think of ourselves as modern and sophisticated, but we apply double standards on how we perceive designer lingerie.

While fashion media proclaims luxury underwear as the quintessence of femininity, the cherry on the cake of seduction, most women simply frown on the sight of a suspender belt. Not so long ago, a co-worker of mine embodied the commonplace in one sentence, “It looks pretty on magazine models. I would never wear such a thing, though”. Implied by these words, the hidden truth — no femme sérieuse will be taken like one by openly admitting she has a soft spot for Lise Charmel.

Many years ago, still a literature student and not a spare penny to spend in high-end bras, some friends and I were discussing the topic over cheap rosé. At the time, Gossip Girl was big on TV and we were simply breathless at how beautiful Leighton Meister looked in Agent Provocateur. However, there was some discomfort over conversation since none of us wanted to say we felt both inspired and maybe a bit jealous.

But then again, why did we react like that? By looking back now, a bunch of reasons comes to my mind. As the typical Humanities Bachelors in their twenties, we all considered ourselves as clever, original, and wittily critical with society, which made us unable to be more honest. In our defence, it could be argued that we were young and restless: therefore, a bit lack of experience, as well as a bit prone to the holier-than-thou nonsense (probably derived from a consistent diet of endless European cinema soirées, and the influence of the unavoidably pseudo-intellectual male acquaintances, who enjoyed mansplaining mostly every possible thing to us).

The point is we said many stupid things I will not reproduce here, but also talked about the over-sexualization of Victoria’s Secret angels on stage.

Like many other women, we felt intimidated by this unreal image of sensuality which unequivocally entails a passive gender role. We did not want to represent any of the associated parts — the virgin, the slut, the bombshell. By accepting these we would surely lose control of our bodies, our identities and least but not last, our lives.

At some point though, one of my friends introduced a twist-plot in the chat. “Why do you assume lingerie is just for men?” she said, “Why do they even need to know you are wearing it?” That, for a start, was an interesting question.

As much as we were hard trying to deconstruct our vision of the world, we would not stop focusing the whole thing on male vortex. After listening to a good hour of moral preening, she got sick and kindly explained an obvious but game-changing idea to us, the revolutionary concept of start enjoying ourselves just for the sake of it.

Lingerie could be fun if you simply looked at it as another form of joy and self-expression. She suggested — and this is something that has walked with me not only in my twenties, but also all through my thirties — to wear it, if we pleased, as an invisible armour. Her exact words were to get dressed from the inside. I gave it a thought, understanding that even if I had a lazy old jeans and t-shirt day, I could cheerfully wear my best undies as well. It could be like painting my nails red on a blue Monday, or reading my favourite author while drinking coffee in a nice quiet place. And what was the best part? — Only I would know.

There are still many things I do not buy about the whole lingerie business conception.

I will never be comfortable about how the VS angels are presented, or about how much transparency a single clothing piece can display on such compromising areas. Nevertheless, I truly share the whole new concept many brands have developed: from Dita von Teese to What Katie Did, some are now paying more attention to what we feel like, reinforcing body positivity in the process. This is for sure a feminist contribution: no more slut shaming, body shaming, or any other moral implications.

I bless the fact it is more about us women now, and a bit less about them. And I bless the fact that another woman was able to make me change my mind.

If you are reading this dear, you know who you are.

November 22, 2018February 3, 2019

Allegra Caro9 Comments

Guía Vintage de Budapest

Si alguien me preguntase sobre el tema, probablemente le diría que Budapest es un poco como la típica chica de las películas de los 90: al principio nadie le hace caso, pero luego resulta ser la más interesante del instituto y termina por ligarse al capitán del equipo de fútbol.

La apodada “perla del Danubio” es la meca estival de miles de turistas cada año: europeos, japoneses y australianos peregrinan ordenadamente para maravillarse pero, por alguna razón poco clara, sus encantos siguen siendo desconocidos para la mayoría de españoles.

Hace poco, una amiga y yo atendíamos a nuestra cita semanal online –costumbre que seguimos desde que ella se mudó a Berlín y que con frecuencia aprovechamos para comparar nuestras impresiones como expatriadas delante de un cappuccino–, cuando salió el tema de las últimas vacaciones. Una de nuestras aficiones en común es la moda (y más específicamente la pasión por el vintage), por eso me sorprendió bastante cuando, tras anunciar que mis próximos planes incluían pasar cuatro días buscando tesoros en las tiendas húngaras, ella frunció un poco el ceño: “¿Pero no estuviste ya el año pasado?”, preguntó extrañada. De hecho, no sólo estuve el año pasado, sino también el otoño anterior y una vez más antes de eso; y todas y cada una de ellas he tenido que poner cuidado en no exceder el límite de la tarjeta y terminar el mes sustentándome de conservas y sopa en lata (sólo por si acaso, será mejor que nadie asome la nariz a mi alacena este mes…)

El caso es que, tras explicarle superficialmente una retahíla de razones por las que como amante de los años 40 y su memorabilia no podía dejar de visitar la ciudad, pensé que era una lástima no compartir algunos secretos sobre los sitios que nadie debería perderse, así que al volver a casa me puse manos a la obra. Si tú también eres un adicto a la segunda mano, éstas son las tiendas que no puedes dejar de visitar.

Las cinco mejores tiendas vintage de Budapest:

1. Ludovika Vintage

Esta tienda de dos pisos en el número 15 de Rumbach Sebestyén define su atmósfera como un híbrido entre Las vírgenes suicidas y Annie Hall. Lo que es indiscutible es que su oferta de ropa rescatada de los años 70 es muy difícil de superar. El local, limpio y ordenado, expone una variedad poco habitual de bolsos, zapatos y kimonos importados de Japón. Incluso si – como yo– no eres un gran fan de la década, el mimo que han dedicado a la selección del material no deja de impresionar. Ludovika está situada además en el sofisticado barrio judío, donde puedes tomarte tu tiempo en algunos de los mejores cafés y restaurantes en la ciudad.

2. Retrock

Para los acquicenses más trendy ésta es la favorita indiscutible. La boutique, situada en el populoso Anker köz, exhibe una muestra curiosa de ropa deportiva de los 90, vestidos de fiesta (no olvides pararte a echar un vistazo si eres fan de Alicia Silverstone y sus secuaces en Fuera de Onda) y accesorios de fantasía. Retrock cuenta también con el atractivo de ser probablemente la tienda más espaciosa del sector.

3. Szputnyik

¿Lo tuyo es mezclar lo viejo y lo nuevo? En Szputnyik encontrarás una miscelánea interesante de blusas de los 80 y los 90, accesorios y faldas de tul. Además, con algo de suerte, puede que también encuentres piezas de diseño en una de las dos tiendas que hay en la ciudad. Tras rebuscar durante unos 20 minutos en un baúl como el disciplinado perro sabueso que soy, me llevé a casa una estola prácticamente nueva de John Lewis y un colgante de Anna Sui por algo menos de 12 euros, así que recomiendo visitarla sin prisa y hacer una pausa para café si es necesario. A lo mejor sales de allí con un botín que no te esperas.

4. Alterego

La línea que divide las prendas thrifted o de segunda mano y el vintage es muy fina, y en Alterego las combinan a la perfección. Esta discreta boutique escondida en unas galerías de la céntrica calle Erzsébet tiene el mérito de contar casi exclusivamente con ropa y accesorios de marca: Vans, Prada, Converse, Tokyo Jane… La lista nunca se acaba. No recomendaría esta visita si estás buscando antigüedades o alta costura, pero si lo tuyo es el estilo urbanita no dejes de reservarle un hueco durante tu viaje.

5. Szimpla Design Shop

He dejado para el final la que es, probablemente, la mayor sorpresa de todas. Szimpla se encuentra en un bajo de la famosa calle Kazinczy y el local que ocupa es conocido por haber albergado un célebre pub underground; desde fuera, no ofrece un aspecto evocador: se trata de un local pequeño, en una esquina algo apretujada y polvorienta. Al descender por las estrechas escaleras, uno esperaría encontrarse con un sótano mohoso, sin mucho que ofrecer… y no podría estar más equivocado. Encontrarse de pronto en medio del maravilloso caos ordenado que reina allí es como transportarse directamente a un desván secreto repleto de tesoros variopintos: más de 50 diseñadores, antigüedades y ropa de segunda mano comparten espacio. Si como yo, tú también perteneces a esa especie de rara avis formada por los rastreadores de curiosidades, no puedes dejar de visitarla.

Hay, desde luego, muchos más establecimientos especializados que pueden resultar interesantes –por no hablar de los mercados de pulgas, que merecen su propio capítulo–, pero si necesitas priorizar tu tiempo o simplemente visitas la ciudad de escapada un par de días, el material más interesante lo encontrarás en alguna de estas tiendas con toda seguridad.

Recuerda, eso sí, no exceder el límite de tu tarjeta: no me responsabilizo de que termines el mes sustentándote de sopa en lata…

November 19, 2018November 18, 2018

Allegra Caro5 Comments

No Carrie Bradshaw here

Fashionable, sophisticated, politically correct.

These were the three golden rules for a successful blogger an acquaintance provided me with during casual brunch a few weeks ago. The aforementioned girl — a blooming online talent with much of a potential to become an influencer in no time — passed this piece of advice to me, convinced it could turn any blogging pumpkin into a first-class carriage for the internet royalty overnight. I, on the other hand, could only look at my salmon bagel doubtfully, while wondering what were the chances the crystal pumps would hit a pebble on the road and send me straight to the emergency room.

If you have read until this point, maybe you are thinking how the hell did I found myself having that conversation…

I should probably start by explaining that, for most of my lifetime, I have enjoyed telling stories (and more specifically, writing them). Fables, tales, articles — you name it. Another passion of mine was always style. Many years ago, when the internet was all fields, I briefly hosted an online diary, which reflected a lot of my personal impressions and my younger-self embarrassing fashion choices. It is gone now (and for the better!), but after transitioning to adulthood and going through a lot of freelance copywriting, the good-old blogging bug stung me again.

With all of this in mind I picked up the phone and asked my generous friend to share some pro-tips in exchange for a nice Sunday brunch.

However, the allegedly golden rules seemed inadequate to me (if not completely unfit). Yes, I have got plenty of experience on writing. And yes, I was expecting to create a moderately successful site. I could not avoid a bit of hesitation, though.

Be fashionable, she said.

This, for sure, sounded like reasonable advice for someone aspiring to post on clothes regularly. The only problem is I am not a fashionable person. I DO love fashion, don’t get me wrong, and Haute Couture is undeniably an art whose power of attraction frequently mesmerizes me. BUT I cannot, for my life, consider myself as a trendy individual. Stylish? Maybe.

To be honest, I am not very interested in high street trends, or the Fast Fashion phenomenon. Hence, first rule was probably… well, not fitted to me, to say the least.

Be sophisticated.

This was the one which made me feel truly insecure. Sophisticated. Who? Me? The girl writing this post on a Budapest train with no air conditioning during the most glorious heat-wave August afternoon, and who totally gave up on looking presentable (or even a human being)?

When I think about sophistication, Carrie Bradshaw (Sex in the City heroine) always comes to my mind.

I can see her stopping a cab in Valentino. Would she be in this train, she would not even sweat, and she’d be telling amusing stories with a cosmo in her hand, seducing everyone in the process. As for me? Well, I’ve mostly run out of lukewarm still water, and I am far too concerned the passenger next to me will think I am some kind of terminal-touristy case.

At least, I can hear you say, you could try being politically correct. And I could… if I was planning to post outfits only. The thing is I am kind of chatty (you would not guest, based on these 500 words of nonsense, would you?), and chatty people can go controversial.

There is also one more thing: I am not planning on posting outfits only.

The main reason I follow blogs is because I enjoy reading other people, putting myself in their shoes. And so, I would like to find a personal balance by analyzing the link between fashion and culture. I’d dare to be honest. To write on things I really care about.

And I might be controversial, sometimes.

The truth is, there are little chances I manage to be fashionable, sophisticated, or politically correct. Probably, I will never be Carrie Bradshaw. I hope you will excuse me, though.

November 12, 2018December 2, 2018

Allegra Caro22 Comments

How to achieve the designer look on a budget

There is something undeniably mysterious about haute couture: it is breathtaking on the catwalk, but if you are lucky enough to cross paths with someone wearing it in real life, it’s pretty much like seeing a unicorn — you can only freeze and stare at it in awe.

For most of us, couture fashion seems out of reach. We can for sure follow every Paris Fashion Week religiously, buy every Vogue issue and even spend dozens of hours a year looking at those flawless red carpet actresses wearing Dior or Escada (Er, am I the only one with a slightly weird obsession about the MET gala pictures? I am not, right? RIGHT?), but too frequently for us, poor souls, that’s all there is to it.

An average professional woman may be able to invest in a designer bag as a nice form of emancipation self-indulgence, but will she spend thousands on her closet regularly when the car insurance bill pay, or the latest kindergarten payment arrive? Most likely not. So, should we then assume that middle-class women must simply give up and start dressing in rags — a modern Charles Dickens parody, with office workers window shopping clothes they cannot afford —, forever doomed? Well, I don’t like tragedies other than Shakespeare´s.

So, how do you glam up? Is it possible to achieve the fashion couture look on a budget? Or even get designer clothes for less? (Spoiler alert: it is.) After a few years of rights and wrongs, these are the lessons I have learned along the way.

1. Shop second hand

One of my sisters, who is also the biggest French couture fan ever, once said to me: “Do you know what looks like Chanel? Exactly, Chanel .” Yes, I know. Captain Obvious reporting for duty! But before you stop reading and click away, please let me explain. What she actually meant was you might have no budget to grant a quick trip to Les Champs–Élysées for a brand new Gabrielle Hobo bag, and that’s OK. But there are other options out there. Have you ever considered second-hand market, for instance? Nowadays, the internet is riddled with specialized apps where you can find virtually anything. Including designer clothes. My personal favourite is Depop (just don’t tell the others, they are jealous…), but the list is never-ending.

2. Don’ t miss the sales

This is another one that goes without saying. Check the designer website sales regularly. If you pay attention enough, it is not difficult to find huge discounts during the appropriate seasons. It is possible to make 70% off, and even more in the last items. Just make your research with a good cup of tea and remember to thank me afterwards (or simply buy something gorgeous, that’s fair enough, anyway).

3. Commission tailored clothes

Find a nice dressmaker locally who can honor your figure and personal tastes. It is not necessarily expensive, and nothing fits better than custom made dresses. Or you can just drop that brand new dress to the seamstress to make it fit like a glove. Usually, it requires a few adjustments only to transform a decent dress in the most fetching piece. This is something I do myself frequently, and an easy way to upgrade your closet quickly. Do you know want to look like Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s but without debt in your bank account? (Well, and maybe without that weepy scene, looking for your cat under the rain. I don’t know about you, but I prefer not to lose my cat…) Then go for it.

4. Find quality shops in the high street

This might sound to you a bit like the quest for the holy grail, but I promise is not. It may require a bit of patience and research, sure — the effort is totally worth it, though. When I first moved to Bucharest five years ago, I noticed women wore what it looked like designer clothes. However, I knew the national average salary was not that high. Where were these ladies shopping, then? The answer came to me quickly: the capital was full of little boutiques where you could purchase fancy coats, dresses, and bags for a fraction of the haute couture prices. In no time I became kind of an expert to be out and about, entering every shop, selecting the most affordable quality pieces. Not only my closet is thankful for it, but also my account balance.

5. Make your research.

Some time ago, a friend asked me: “How can YOU afford your clothes?” By this, she meant how could I afford a nice wardrobe given my modest salary. I replied without missing a beat: “I invest time.” And it was true. Whenever I had some spare time and felt like going for a walk, I would take the chance to visit some shops and see what they could offer. I would compare prices and quality. I am still doing so nowadays. Patience and time to make your research is the best advice I can give you. Go outside once in a while, get a coffee to go, do some window shopping. At some point, you will start figuring out what works for you and your budget.

And a last piece of advice in the shape of a bonus: just experiment. You do not necessarily need that coat/dress/handbag that makes Blake Lively look like the ultimate it girl to feel good (for a start, most of us haven’t got her hair or personal stylists, have we?) So don’t push yourself too hard. In my case, it is a lot of Vintage, and I don’t really care if people might think I look a bit extravagant (or even a bit out of a time capsule, for that matter). After all, style should be fun. And like Cindy Lauper very kindly pointed out: Girls just want to have fun.

This has been the first chapter of Prêt-à–Porter series.

In the next chapter: How to dress like Dita Von Teese! Coming soon…

November 11, 2018January 13, 2019

Allegra Caro5 Comments