When I was a teen, I remember hating watches. I thought they were just plain ugly pieces that one was supposed to wear when he was older. I now know why I felt this way – I had no good examples to look at. Piaget was not a word in my vocabulary. Thank goodness for growing older and growing wiser. Thank goodness for this book.
The truth is this tome (and it is certainly a tome as it is heavier than my monthly grocery shop) is not necessarily for jewellery lovers. If you consider yourself one, you will delight in looking at the pretty pictures and the vintage Piaget ads here and there. You will be limited to this though.
To truly soak in the glory of this book, you must be willing to immerse yourself in the world of jewellery, from the meticulous process of making it, marketing the goods, through to understanding a brand with historical significance. All of these aspects are covered in Piaget, so to really enjoy this book in a maximalist sense, being a jewellery lover is simply not enough – you must have a healthy obsession with fine jewellery and watchmaking.
Lest we forget that Piaget is the brand that invented jewellery that tells time. That is a radically different way of looking at traditional watchmaking, that is known to be rather rigid and almost exclusively masculine. This is the moment when you picture a man (à la David Gandy) in a a sharp suit looking to his right, a golden Rolex around his wrist nonchalantly shining in the morning sun. Piaget thought, yes, let’s have that. But let’s also make watches sexy and exaggerated. So add a particularly feminine lady in front of our David Gandy lookalike wearing stacks of fine jewels and no watches. After all it’s her timeless jewellery that tells time. Genius.
From 1874 to this day Piaget has stayed within the confines of its own motto: Always do better than necessary. Because of that as time goes by, Piaget’s jewellery keeps on ticking as the brand’s diamonds and emeralds continue shining on. Get this book to find out just how brightly.
This book is written by Florence Müller. Photographs are by Philippe Garcia and Steve Hiett. Get a copy via Abrams and Chronicle. Thank you for my copy!
There was that one time when I was a bit feverish and I told my boyfriend: “Could you please find a zero brain work movie for us to watch? I need some mind numbness.” He then found a really bad Steven Seagal movie. It was epic, it was just what the doctor ordered: an ageing Seagal fighting zombies with some mind blowing special effects including sounds like ha-tschhhhh and d-schhhhh as punches.
Of course, had I been in the mood for some serious cinema I would probably be moaning to you right now about how I wish I could get that one hour of my life back.
That’s how I feel about this book, Paris Street Style: Shoes by Isabelle Thomas and Frederique Veysset. It’s harmless, entertaining and will inspire you to buy a pair of shoes. I was pleasantly surprised to see a few pairs that I already own photographed and serenaded to; including creepers by Underground, Louboutins, Nikes and Walter Steiger heels.
Shoe fans will not put this book down until they read it cover to cover. At least three times. It’s a compelling nonchalant read – that’s how French it is.
The authors don’t shy away from crude phrases and some will make you cringe. The translation from French to English doesn’t always work. I am multilingual, so I could feel the awkward grammar crawl in here and there which I found wildly entertaining.
But enlightenment and education are not the primary reasons one picks this book up. You pick it up because it’s on your coffee table as a bookssessory. Because it is a true relief hearing chic French people voice their disgust at nylon knee high socks that cut into your knees, about feet in dire need of a pedicure and marvel at the fact that the word hooker is used in a fashion book.
I can’t find any faults with this read because I take it for what it is: a subject of envy when seen on my coffee table and a book that solidifies my status as a “fashionista” in front of everyone. It’s a piece of fantastic entertainment. Enjoy the cringes, enjoy the bluntness and enjoy the fashion.
Just like you wouldn’t look for Cubrick’s directorial brilliance in a Seagal movie, don’t look for academic conceptualistic fashion in this book. You will however learn to speak French using shoes only. And that’s a skill worth having.
Thank you to Abrams & Chronicle Books for sending me a copy.
Oh Ccuoco. I have no idea how to pronounce the brand name but I am a keen learner.
When the lights dimmed and I heard the Arabic chill out inspired music, you got my attention.
When I saw the first look in all of its accessorised glory I was hooked on your aesthetic, Ccuoco. I thought to myself – this collection is so me: the goth of the Middle East.
The butter soft leather, the sexy make up, the seriously floaty silks – everything looked perfectly dark and devious.
There was only one thing I regretted in this show; that it ended so quickly. It was just a flicker of light, one of the brightest ones this London Fashion Week.
Ccuoco, your fanbase widens.