Anglomania Issue 3 by mo sow

FASHION•SPORT•LIFESTYLE ISSUE04 MARCH 09 £4.20

LEWIS HAMILTON RANKIN JOSH LEWSEY SHAUN WHITE BURBERRY DINOS CHAPMAN REVEREND AND THE MAKERS LINDSEY VONN SIX NATIONS SUPERBOWL HISTORY OF BRITISH FORMULA ONE

nemanja vidic

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW

FASHION•SPORT•LIFESTYLE ISSUE04 MARCH 09 £4.20

LEWIS HAMILTON RANKIN JOSH LEWSEY SHAUN WHITE BURBERRY DINOS CHAPMAN REVERAND AND THE MAKERS LINDSEY VONN SIX NATIONS SUPERBOWL HISTORY OF BRITISH FORMULA ONE

nemanja vidic

eXcLUSive inTeRvieW

IN THE NEXT ISSUE: JAMES CRACKNELL JERMAINE JENAS INTERVIEW THE A1GP RACES KATIE CLEMENTS INTERVIEW STELLA MCCARTNEY FOR ADIDAS TEA WITH THE SKINNERS ANNIE nightingale INTERVIEW POLO COMES TO TV ALEXANDER MCQUEEN WWW.ANGLOMANIAMAG.COM

MO-EDU PUBLISHING ANGLOMANIA LTD PO BOX 206, 77 BEAK STREET, SOHO, LONDON, W1F 9DB EDITOR IN CHIEF & ARTISTIC DIRECTOR mo galy sow mo@anglomaniamag.com DEPUTY EDITOR amy tipper-hale amy@anglomaniamag.com FASHION COORDINATOR cleo davis cleo@anglomaniamag.com BEAUTY COORDINATOR niedian biggs niedian@anglomaniamag.com EDITORIAL TEAM amy tipper-hale, cleo davis, paul joseph, véronique de freitas SUB-EDITOR kia abdullah ART & DESIGN zuki turner zuki@anglomaniamag.com PHOTOGRAPHY adam hippman, ishay botbol, john davis, joshua lachkovic, karl nab, louise melchior, magnus ekstrØm, marcelo benfield, natalia skobeeva, paolo regis, panja, paul tyagi, richard davies, thomas hoeffgen CONTRIBUTORS amy simpson, annelie brottare, ayo alli, biki john, caroline eden, charlotte jones, christian schleisner, daniel adlem, daniel mantle, daniel smith, dasha, dave foster, eddie keogh, elizabeth dickson, fernanda fernandez, hannah e dolan, james dellingpole, joanna banach, ken nakano, lauraine bailey, mads stigborg, malkit singh, margo bushueva, martin bray, michael wylie-harris, nick dines, nicola caton, olivia gagan, penelope rowlands, rahma mohamed, ryutaro, sergey logvinov, shinya fukami, sophia martelli, sunami, tomi INTERNS elina kras, elise merckoll ADVERTISING frederic galligani frederic@anglomaniamag.com tannaz kowssari

tannaz@anglomaniamag.com

PUBLICATION DIRECTOR alain lecour @ exportpress paris FINANCE AND BUSINESS OPERATIONS michael scott carter PRODUCTION MANAGER tom simpson ACCOUNTS robert shaffran INFO info@anglomaniamag.com PRINT epc bristol DISTRIBUTION domestic comag international; export press ISSN 1758-9827

CONTENTS

15. CENTRAL ST MARTINS AND PUMA 24. snowbomb 2009 26. piste de résistance 32. veni,vidi,vidic 40. banking on the ball 42. superbowled over 44. six nations try again 48. lionheart lewsey 50. lewis hamilton - winning formula 56. british racing scene 64. checking back 66. black back in the union jack 68. INTRODUCING magnus ekstrØm 74. PALE RIDER 82. épée 90. parallel lines 98. ‘me’ by rankin 99. time frame 100. nuance 110. HEAVY METAL 114. notting thrill 116. generation y? 118. pop or proust 120. unique boutiques 124. kolkata 126. the bourgeois boot 128. tech style 130. the art of subterranean living 134. pawar to the paint 136. righting a wrong 140. reverend and the makers 142. a pressing issue 144. the dark heart of africa 147. african arenas

SPORTS

PEOPLE

FASHION

ART

MUSIC

SPORT NEWS

Eduardo Back With A Bang Google Eduardo and the results aren’t pleasant. However, the 25-year-old Croat will now look to begin drastically replacing this reputation of gore with goals. The Arsenal forward made a sensational return to action having endured a year’s worth of misery and rehabilitation with a horrific broken leg following THAT crude lunge by Martin Taylor against Birmingham City last season. Many predicted the career threatening injury would mean the end of the predatory talent, however, following an FA Cup brace in the 4-0 victory against Cardiff City at the Emirates, the prolific marksman described his remarkable yet emotional first-team comeback as “the best day of my life”.

Khan’s Toughest

Assignment Yet

British boxing may have suffered an expected body blow with the recent retirement of Welsh dragon Joe Calzaghe, however, this month sees the return of Amir Khan to the ring in one tasty epic showdown. What is by far the biggest fight of the year so far, 22-year-old Khan will look to the March 14 bout with Mexican Marco Antonio Barrera at Manchester’s MEN Arena as an ideal opportunity to prove why he’s a considered a threat to boxing’s new world order. Having banished dark memories of last year’s first-round knockout defeat to Breidis Prescott with December’s rejuvenating second-round stoppage of Oisin Fagan, 35-year-old Barrera is clearly a step up in class, posing Khan’s toughest challenge to date.

SPORT NEWS

Phelps Breathes

Sigh of Relief

Olympic swimming sensation Michael Phelps discovered he would face no charges following the compromising photograph showing the 23-year-old American inhaling from a large pipe generally used to smoke marijuana. The tabloid drug scandal scoop failed to generate enough evidence to charge the giant heroic Olympian, who won eight gold medals in Beijing, despite him being present in the controversial image taken at a university party in South Carolina. The slightly tarnished reputation of one of American sport’s squeaky-clean athletes left Phelps in an immensely regrettable situation. In a statement made shortly after the verdict, he admitted that “one bad decision can really hurt you. I will move forward and dive back into the pool, having put this whole thing behind me.”

Practice Makes Perfect

For Reigning Champ

Hamilton

It’s a case of all eyes on sunny Melbourne, Australia, later this month as Britain’s Lewis Hamilton revs up down-under for the beginning of his defence of the Formula One Championship. Showing little sign of a Hamilton hiatus, the 24-year-old appears to have hit the tarmac running in practice, swiftly getting to grips with McLaren’s 2009 car and the technical changes F1 have introduced for the coming season. Hamilton has demonstrated top form, clocking up valuable miles in recent practice sessions in Jerez, Spain, and he will no doubt be keen to get off to a steady start in the battle for supremacy as we approach the countdown to the opening race on March 29.

PREVIEW

ALEXANDER MCQUEEN FOR PUMA TO LAUNCH APPaREL

by cleo davis The in sync sport-fashion collaboration they call ‘Alexander McQueen for PUMA’ has extended its footwear collection to clothing for the Autumn/Winter 2009 range. The brand will introduce a full collection of men’s and women’s apparel and accessories testing the limits of form, function and design. Enveloping the metaphoric concept of ‘Power’, each season’s collection will have a specific seasonal theme related to sport. A/W09 takes a punch of boxing inspired styles with ergonomic cuts, combat bandages and specific colour and material applications. The A/W09 collection marketing campaign will be photographed by world-renowned fashion photographer Nick Knight and will debut in July 2009.

PREVIEW

Textbook Tips

Create a professor’s paradigm with bowties, book bags and big frame glasses compiled by cleo davis

1. Grey holdall/shopper £298 LANVIN 2. Check bowtie £20 FRENCH CONNECTION 3. Crosby belt £45 FOLK 4. Aviator sunglasses £150 LINDA FARROW by RAF SIMONS 5. Pinstripe slim ties £89 (sold separately) Z ZEGNA 6. Light grey check cotton charlie hat £270 LOUIS VUITTON 7. Midnight blue bead hi-top basket shoe £659 LANVIN

PREVIEW

Building Blocks Get playful with spring’s Tropicana trend of juicy block colours

compiled by cleo davis

1. Triangle Crescent Earrings £110 GREEN BY RACHEL GILMAN 2. Pink visor sunglasses £10 ASOS 3. Zipped pouch in blue lambskin with chain handle £poa “LADY DIOR” at DIOR 4. Peach mary-janes £76 VIVIENNE WESTWOOD 5. Platform peeptoe pump in pink patent leather £poa DIOR 6. Triangle Block Earrings £72 PEACH BY RACHEL GILMAN

PREVIEW

Ethos

Tie up this tribal trend with pleated ropes as laces and belts, snakeskin bags and aztec traits in gold compiled by cleo davis

1. Cord waved belt £141 POLO RALPH LAUREN at MY-WARDROBE.COM 2. Gold stretch belt £378 MAWI 3. New Ethnicity necklace in gilded metal, ethnicity spirit statuettes £poa DIOR 4. Plastron in metal and natural stones £1,700 CHANEL 5. Natural “Le 30” in python £poa DIOR 6. Gold cord and bead patent heels £poa LOUIS VUITTON

CENTRAL ST MARTINSâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;

PUMA PARADE photographer: Natalia Skobeeva words and interviews: cleo davis

zandra rhodes & david

Katie greenwood, model & tyson

Students of Central Saint Martins presented their final designs of a restyled biker jacket for PUMA at London Fashion Week on Friday 20th February in the main show tent. For the third year running, the sponsorship of the Central Saint Martins MA fashion show is linked to the bursary award that helps students to afford their studies within and beyond the college.Spokesmodel Tyson Beckford hosted the catwalk sporting runner-up Wayne Fitzell’s jacket. Announced was winner Katie Greenwood, who won an awarding £8,000 for her ‘sleek street’ women’s motorcycle jacket. She said on winning, “It is brilliant to have won this prestigious award. The money will certainly help me progress with my fashion design projects rather than having to take the first job that comes along. It will definitely give me more freedom.” The runners up were Wayne Fitzell, Nicola Lewis and Laura Mackness; who all also received financial rewards for their designs.

melody Harris-Jensbach, model, nicola lewis & tyson

louise wilson & hilary alexander

tyson beckford

PREVIEW

Winners of the Central Saint Martins Bursary Award are… 1ST KATIE GREENWOOD, Lancashire What was your inspiration? There were two-levels of inspiration: European, sleek and minimal design. I looked at the film ‘Girl on a Motorbike,’ she rides around on a bike Europe in a sexy tight leather clothing Describe your jacket in three words Sleek, street and cute Sportswear is fairly new for you, was it a daunting brief? Did you have to think about functions, technicalities? At first, yes, it was. I have worked for lifestyle brands such as J.Lindeberg before but nothing as directly sporty and Puma. My first design was much more padded than the final design as I took in to account safety therefore came back with a re-designed Michelin Man. After my tutor asked if I would wear it, I turned my nose up. We were then directed to design something more aesthetic than functional. It was a concept. So what comes first on your priority list when designing; fashion or function? Fashion. All the time. What is your experience in the fashion field, designers? Katherine Hamnett, J.Lindeberg and Luella Do you have a role model(s)? Raf Simons for Jil Sander, Helmut Lang in the 1990s What are you doing now? Enjoying London Fashion Week? I am actually in the process of looking for a job so updating my CV at the moment, no time like the present. Do you now intend to go down the sport fashion design route? It’s not something I would rule out, I am very versatile. But at the moment, I am looking to take the high-end ready to wear route. www.katiehgreenwood@msn.com

2nd WAYNE FITZELL

3rd NICOLA LEWIS

3rd LAURA MACKNESS

Inspired by the blend of sport and high-fashion, Wayne’s role model is Hussein Chalayan. The motorcycle jacket for Puma was his first sportswear design.

With a BA in Fashion Design from De Monfort University (Leicester), Nicola’s inspiration for her collection was 1970s corduroy. Vivienne Westwood is her role model.

With work experience at Peter Jensen, Laura describes her motorcycle jacket as versatile, feminine and minimum. Her inspiration was vintage biker jackets found in London boutiques.

Nottingham

Dublin

Lancashire

PREVIEW

ANGLOMANIA

MEETS PUMA’S

VICE-CHAIRMAN

interview: AMY TIPPER-HALE photography: NATALIA SkOBEEVA

Puma considers itself as more than a sport brand. Having teamed up with Central Saint Martins, it is pushing the principles of design as well as performance. Amy Tipper-Hale finds out how Melody Harris-Jensbach was made vice-chairman of Puma in 2007. If there was ever any doubt of her love for the job, her enthusiasm on seeing our cameraman’s trainers at the Central Saint Martins and PUMA London fashion week event amply demonstrated a dedicated attention to the brand she works for: the trainers were an old ‘EI Ray’ design bought in South Africa, which he’d been unable to locate anywhere else. Melody made her assistant take shots of the shoes and told him to “take a trip down Carnaby Street or look online”. She herself is wearing a pair of high heels from the highly anticipated Sergio Rossi/Puma 2009 collection, much to my envy. Preceding your work at Puma you mainly worked for fashion brands such as Espirit. How do sport products differ from a creative marketing angle? Well, I think first of all it’s the technology, development and research for the design that is the most important thing behind performance apparel: it’s a new way of developing products. We always start from the sport end then evolve it into the lifestyle, and this is where you see the influences going over into the items that the Saint Martins students have designed. What have been PUMA’s main marketing successes since you began working with the brand? First of all one of the main success was at the Olympics with Usain Bolt and the golden shoes which helped him create his three gold medals. I think the marketing venture was an unexpected one; you develop a team as well as an athlete and they both do something fantastic for that one special moment, and that one special moment was shown around the world. Puma came into Beijing nowhere near rivals Nike and Adidas in terms of market value. But PUMA had Bolt… Well obviously the Olympics is a major sporting event and as one of the larger sporting companies of course we have marketing influence within the Olympics, which just depends upon the size. The thing with the Olympics, the other companies did put in a sizable amount into the spend, but I just think it was the magic of the athlete and the team, and of us that made it all come together in last year’s Olympics. PUMA is now one of the official sponsors of women’s professional soccer. Have you seen a growth in the female market since this? I think women’s soccer is a developing sport, but definitely I think it has always been ignored. When you see that women’s sport is be coming more popular,

especially in soccer and in the United States and Europe, I think one can’t ignore it – women, after all, make up more than 50% of the population. The brand works closely with charity Peace One Day. What is the attraction of this particular charity for PUMA? This goes under the umbrella of Puma Vision where we have different support functions, not only Puma Creative, who follow our initiatives into the manufacturing, but Puma Peace and under Puma Peace it is Peace One Day, which has been supported by Jeremy (Jeremy Gilley, founder of Peace One Day) for two years, and it will be ongoing. Peace One Day and One Day One Goal. What plans do PUMA have for next year’s African Cup of Nations? PUMA have remained the number one supporter for African teams and have a huge investment in their development. For soccer 2010 I believe we will have a very very sizable presence there and not only because of yesterday and today – it’s a long term cultural support with that continent and with the African teams that no other company has ever invested into. I think this is also going to be one of those magical moments. They’re coming into a substantial reality to be dealt with as a professional team. That in turn gives support to other professional teams. I think that was ignored in the past and they were seen as the underdog and I think that this support is very important to Puma as a brand; supporting teams and giving them the time to nurture and grow. Are you expecting the same brand exposure as in the CAN 2008 in Ghana or are you planning on increasing the sponsorship of the African Nation Teams? We already have our exposure with many of the teams so it’s so broad – more than two thirds of the team. What are PUMA’s key focuses, brand-wise, for 2009? I think fostering initiatives like the PUMA, Ducati and Central Saint Martins Design Competition builds the brand, which melds the sport with the context of life and rejuvenates that type of sport, giving it an edgy feel. It also brings different entities together, and creating that platform is an ongoing initiative. We’re very consumer experience friendly. What can we expect from future collaborations with PUMA? We have a lot of good collaborations that we’re working with today: Ducati, Ferrari, the different African teams, the Jamaican team for our tracking field as well as going into the designer field with people like Mihara Yasuhiro, Alexander McQueen, Sergio Rossi just to name a few. I think it’s a matter of continuing to support them more and nurturing that as well.

PREVIEW

tyson beckford ANNETTE & DANIELLE FELDER anya hindmarsh

erin oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;connor

Partying with Puma

Hussein Chalayan and Melody HarrisJensbach host Puma/Ducati event at the Design Museum introducing the Central St Martins Bursary Award

hans ulrich obrist

hussein chalayan & melody harris-jensbach

mr gabriele del torchio & tyson tom dixon

louise wilson

lorraine kelly and rosie smith

Specialized

Sport

compiled: cleo davis

Putting function in the forefront of fashion…

Party in protection with Burton’s hard-case helmets with built in audio system and ear clip design. Fit for the songful snowboarder, there is a mute button and emergency disconnect plug for safe sloping. www.burton.com

Preppy style holdalls make an average outfit finer on the eye. The monochrome shades means a safe marriage with this season’s clothing trends of pastel palettes and bright block colouring. The extra side handle eases carrying when transporting heavy gym gear. www.adidas.com

The pack featuring the groundbreaking 1972 original Nike Cortez running trainer along with 2009’s innovative Nike Cortez Fly Motion – a cutting-edge version of the iconic original that puts a premium on reduced weight in the upper by leveraging Flywire technology – both presented in a limited edition box. www.nike.com

FASHION NEWS

10.

11.

14.

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17.

12.

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15.

18.

19.

Monthly Kicks

by Cleo Davis

20.

1. Black fold down trainer £55 FRENCH CONNECTION 2. KANYE white sneaker £poa LOUIS VUITTON 3. Silver patent leather £299 ALEJANDRO INGELMO DAYTONA 4. White hi-top plimsoll £45 SUPERGRA 5. Grey leather trainers £149 BOSS Green 6. Grey and yellow hi-top £70 MONEY FOOTWEAR 7. Dunk Hi £59.99 NIKE at www.jdsport.co.uk 8. Stan Smith II £54.099 ADIDAS ORIGINALS at www.jdsport.co.uk 9. Washed destroyed trainer boots £880 RICK OWENS 10. Cotton ankle boot £627 RICK OWENS 11. Grey low top £55 FRENCH CONNECTION 12. KANYE black sneaker £poa LOUIS VUITTON 13. Blue leather trainers £139 BOSS Orange 14. Black and green hi-top £70 MONEY FOOTWEAR 15. Spine Mid Velcro £179 ALEXANDER MCQUEEN PUMA 16. White and blue hi-top £70 MONEY FOOTWEAR 17. Gold patent leather £299 ALEJANDRO INGELMO DAYTONA 18. Calf leather trainers £235 CREATIVE RECREATION 19. Soccer Street trainer £155 ALEXANDER MCQUEEN PUMA 20. Bowery high £265 ALEJANDRO INGELMO DAYTONA

FASHION NEWS

ON COURSE

AT DUHILL

Luxury men’s brand dunhill has created definitive golfwear called the Links Collection. Exporting the best of British style, the collection was inspired by both the importance of practical apparel on the 18th hole and the need for a stylistic statement on the 19th. With a colour palette drawn from dunhill’s Spring/Summer 2009 seasonal menswear collection including school uniform navy, cloud grey and washed red as well as injections of colour with rescue green, empire blue and citrus yellow. But the ball doesn’t stop there, dunhill’s new brand Ambassador Jamie Redknapp, (along with Jude Law) has been chosen to promote the brand’s luxury menswear and leather goods products. They are, says Julian Diment, dunhill’s marketing director, the epitome of modern British style, a mix of aspiration and down to earth blokishness. “When you’ve got such an established brand like dunhill”, Redknapp tells Executive Golf, “you still need to evolve it, there’s a need to keep it relevant and keep in the public eye”.

FASHION NEWS

BIKKEMBERGS’

BRILLIANCE? by CLEO DAVIS

The Dirk Bikkembergs Autumn/ Winter 2009/10 collection was a mixed bag of brilliant and borderline brassy. Brilliantly, total looks in jersey included roll neck jumpers and suits knitted from the very same yarn. Luxurious garments in cashmere and leather were bRought down to Bikkembergs’ earth in the forms of casual jackets with layers of hoods and headwear. Not so stylish were the standard sportlike stripes sprawled across jogging suits, a slight wink to chav chic some might say. While a wrapping-paper-red two-piece suit made the wrong presence on this sporty catwalk.

LOUIS VUITTON GETS STRONGER

Kanye West previewed his red monochromatic K.West Louis Vuitton trainer at the LV fall 2009 show earlier this year. The simplistic silhouette design features a monochromatic midtop with no frills and a quilted flap in the back, all the easier to tuck roomy baggy jeans into. “The inspiration came from a jacket with a huge collar in the movie Dune ” West says. “Most sneakers focus on the tongue, so I wanted to do something different.” The entire shoe line will be available in LV stores from June.

FASHION NEWS

10.

11.

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T-BREAK

by cleo davis

13.

14.

1. block colour tee £45 FOLK 2. black dee dee ramone tee £34 2K 3. white headphones tee £34 2K 4. white johnny lydon tee £34 2K 5. black vespa polo with collar €65 ADIDAS 6. white hula tee £29.99 REDDOT 7. white bands print tee £34 NUDIE 8. green trefoil tee €22 ADIDAS 9. white bird tee £34 2K 10. blue buildings logo tee £81 MCQ ALEXANDER MCQUEEN 11. white cut and sew tee £60 HELMUT LANG 12. union jack flag tee £49 PASSARELLA DEATH 13. frogskin tee £24.99 OAKLEY 14. natural gold tee £189 ALEXANDER MCQUEEN 15. print tee £119 JIL SANDER COLLECTION

15.

MUSIC NEWS

Snow bomb

2009

Throughout the last decade, festival competition has become a different ball game. It used be Glastonbury that ruled superior over all festivals – the others barely got a look in. In most ways, it’s still the best but that doesn’t mean that others haven’t come riding up its backside with big funding and big-brand bands. Unfortunately, most of these heavily promoted events are a disappointment. I’m thinking of V Festival and the Isle of Wight Festival as two prime examples – the former an atrocious mess with fairly good line-ups but lacking in any character whatsoever, and the latter for families with pre-teen children running about and ‘media tents’ so festival-goers can catch the news and use the internet. Why? Most festival-goers have attended these places, looked around and run in horror, yearning for Woodstock. Places like Sunrise Festival and Secret Garden Party are growing in favour – fairly low budget and for the most part, just plain weird. Most of the advertising goes on in Facebook or fly posting so the events appear more private and pleasantly obscure. One of the best things to come out of the festival promoter battle to find the “best festival experience, like, ever” is Snowbomb. It’s been running for nine years and is basically a winter sport holiday combined with a week-long festival. Personally I couldn’t think of anything better – easily the best moments of boarding or skiing are bombing down the mountain in time for a lunch-time vin chaud sitting in the sun. Add a live band or DJ into the equation and you have a sure-fire winner on the festival front. They have huge legendary parties in the evenings with fancy dress; an Arctic Disco taking place in an igloo, a Street Party that lasts all day and night, a Back Country Party that’s held in a 200-yearold barn with a roaring bonfire outside and a King of the Mountain unsigned band competition. The winter sport side is no gimmick either. This year the event is being held at Mayrhofen, Austria; a vast ski area where Snowbomb will be hosted for the fifth time. 2009 will be a tenth anniversary for the festival, building on a strong and loyal following of customers and an untainted reputation. The attendees are mostly around 25-30 years old, made up of media and industry workers. The average cost to attend is around £570 per person, making it far more affordable than the average skiing holiday, thus attracting young professionals new to the ski culture and the snow-bums that no ski resort would be without. I’ve known people adamant they’d only stay for a few days before returning home, then “forgetting” to catch the flight back. Last year 80 percent of the customers said they’d return for another year, and with the attendance for 2009 rising continuously it looks like this is the one holiday the miserable credit crunch can’t ruin.

MUSIC NEWS

the big chill

SOUND CITY

the gingerbread men by ANDREW MATTHEWS

the mongrels

Big Chillin’

GingerMinger?

No, festival fun doesn’t seem around the corner, but tent arrangements will be being made before you know it. One of the UK’s best and most loved events, the Big Chill, is something worth looking forward too. It’s their 15th birthday this year, and as part of the celebrations they’re teaming up with The Big Issue and releasing an album this month: fifteen of the festivals favourite performers and The Big Chill’s web collective have chosen tracks for 15 by 15 (Celebrating 15 Years of the Big Chill) that epitomise the festival’s spirit. Those impatient for the summer season should look to the Big Chill House for up-coming events at the King’s Cross establishment.

The strange people at Idea Generation Gallery are hosting a study on the world of Gingers, from 17th February ’til 8th of March. It seemed the perfect time to listen to one of the Anglomania team’s favourite ginger talents: The Gingerbread Men. A knock-off from MobileAct Unsigned – Jo Whiley loved them – these boys keep getting better and better. With catchy lyrics, a good-looking front-man (as well as a bassist called Mat Sex) and brilliant, undiluted energy Gingerbread Men are the gingers of 2009. Catch them at ‘All Teeth’ at the Buffalo Bar by Highbury and Islington Street on the 19th of March.

Sin City Liverpool’s dubious title of European Capital of Culture is, so sadly, at an end. The good news is that Liverpool’s respected and legitimate claim to some of the best music and live band venues lives on in SoundCity 2009. Tickets are now available for the 20th to the 23rd of May. The event will take place in over 30 venues and welcome more than 400 bands from home and abroad.

Album Worth Listening To Mongrel: Better Than Heavy “Mongrel. A coalition of the willing. A force of nature based on musical artists who want to say something about the world they live in and be free of the merry go round of make-record-release, make-record-release.” Reverend and the Makers’ frontman, John McClure’s side-project, Mongrel, brings together some of Britain’s best indie talent with a wealth of its most celebrated hip-hop artists. Ex-Arctic Monkeys bassist, Andy Nicholson and Babyshambles guitarist, Drew McConnell, join forces with McClure and some of the finest names on the UK hip-hop scene. Their mission: “A coming together of different cultures to form a common cause”. Word!

SPORT

Piste De

Résistance Nick Dines profiles two of the slope’s coolest stars Fast forward 12 months and the XXI Olympic Winter Games will be upon us in Vancouver, Canada. Whilst there’s known to be a healthy antagonism between snowboarders and skiers, winter wonders 22-year-old Shaun White and Lindsey Vonn, 24, two integral stars of the US Olympic Team, will be united in their goals, looking to impress in their respective competitions. Snow White Despite the relatively youthful age of 22, snowboarding sensation Shaun White has competed professionally since he was a 13-year-old prepubescent prodigy. On the cusp of yet another hectic yet exhilarating season, White’s scheduled to return to the lab, hard at work at concocting further eye-catching moves in preparation for the following season’s 2010 Winter Olympics. Nine to five certainly has no existence in White’s work as the only figures the pro snowboarder deals with are 360° and the more technical 1080°. Once perfected, White’s unexpected and creative moves are so impressive that they tend to be repeated more than an episode of Friends, making for astonishing airborne ballet; the Swan Lake of the skies. Along with an apt surname for his chosen career, White has already amassed an impressive and enviable array of sponsors including Oakley, Red Bull, American Express and Burton snowboards, becoming a commercial magnet. With his own White Collection clothing range and Shaun White Snowboarding computer game, action enthusiast White now follows in the mammoth footsteps of fellow sporting greats Tiger Woods and Tony Hawks. Rolling Stone labelled him ‘the coolest kid in America’ and away from the slopes, self-confessed fashion and music fanatic, White is very much of the indie-scene, skinny jeans and vintage rock ‘n’ roll t-shirt, almost Luke Pritchard Kook-esque. However, when it comes to boarding, he certainly ‘moves in his own way’.

SPORT

From the Hollywood hills to Olympic half-pipes, born and raised in Carlsbad, California, adrenaline junkie White proved a natural on the Californian slopes, reaching an accomplished standard from the age of six. As a child, boarding proved the primary focus – crawling and walking had to wait. A competitive streak developed on the hills of June Mountain thanks to healthy family banter with his elder brother Jesse, one of the key ingredients in contributing to White’s amazing progression, which he revealed in an interview with his sponsor Red Bull: “Jesse is the one who got me started with snowboarding. He helped push me to ride better by taking me with his friends and pushing me to do what they were doing. We work together now and it’s the same sibling rivalry. We push each other in different ways, but it’s always about progression and making each other better.” On the outside, White appears another flawless sporting specimen, however at the age of five he was diagnosed with a problematic heart defect condition titled Tetralogy of Fallot, which he endured two surgeries to repair. What should really hamper him has proved more of an enticement to excel and overcome. When he’s not soaring through the air attached to his board, he can usually be found on a plane, continuously jetting between the States, Europe and Asia, with the fresh alpine atmosphere of Colorado, Tahoe and Japan, particularly favoured destinations. His instantly recognisable giant shaggy flaming red locks, which once earned him the nickname ‘The Flying Tomato’ appear almost beacon-like when he’s

strenuously pounding the powder, yet it’s the golden achievements that have gained White mass adulation. Coming off the back of an Olympic gold in Turin 2006, which he describes as his career highlight thus far, podiums have become a second home, a regular ‘hang out’ for him as he continues to claim snowboarding’s highest honours, having thrown down some huge runs over the past two years. The spotlight has been focused solely on him ever since, resulting in a rapidly expanding celebrity status. Whether it’s slope style or half-pipe events, victories have become an everyday occurrence, securing titles since 2002 in the Winter X Games, TTR Tour Championship, US Open and the Burton European Open Championship. 2008 can be described as White’s most successful year to date, culminating in the hugely prestigious Laureus World Sports Award for the best Action Sportsperson of the Year. Now on the board an average of four hours a day, when he’s not ‘shredding it up’ on the mountains, his penchant for skateboarding has also led to a professional status. Gaining recognition from another idol Tony Hawks and a determination in continuing to set new impressive standards has allowed for the perfect escape from the chilly winter competitions, often skating through the cities, which he describes as a ‘great excuse to hangout with friends’. Red-hot White has pretty much singlehandedly helped inspire a vast interest in snowboarding, providing a legacy and taking the sport to a whole new mainstream audience. Kids now want to be the next Shaun White and with boarding abilities that wouldn’t look out of place on Heroes, he’s very much the cool character. Awesome indeed.

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Vonn to watch If White’s 2008 was profitable, then two-time Olympian Vonn’s proved epic. A product of the Colorado’s Ski Club Vail, Vonn secured her first World Cup overall title and by doing so became only the second American female to achieve such a feat.

adversity, persevering through a number of bone-crunching collisions, including a horrific crash during the 2006 Turin Winter Olympics. Her remarkable determination to recover earned her an Olympic Spirit Award, however it’s not the sympathy vote she yearns for. Olympic gold, and the recognition that comes with it, is her Everest.

Google Vonn and you’ll soon learn that her sultry Scarlett Johansson-like looks, which would evidently thaw the iciest of hills, aren’t the 24-year-old’s only quality. The serenading cowbells that regularly become the soundtrack to skiing competitions across the world now ring to Lindsey’s tune, thanks to her killer instinct that’s impressively harnessed on a colossal 100km/h slope onslaught. Skiing’s poster girl Vonn is now the most successful downhill competitor in US history, having eclipsed her childhood icon Picabo Street, the only other American to have won the coveted downhill title. “She was my idol growing up and I really became inspired by her. I’ve always wanted to win an Olympic gold medal like her,” Vonn declares on her website.

Coverage of skiing in the States is at a bare minimum compared to the daily feast of NBA, NFL and NHL. Skiing possesses a persistent blindspot in the US public’s mindset and it’s this aspect that is probably her most challenging of slaloms; melting the cold-shoulder her sport receives back home. Having brought the harshest of mountains to their knees and now boasting a far more consistent and solid form since diversifying from slalom to speed, defending her overall World Cup title is what she describes as her ‘paramount goal’ for 2009. The darling of the US Ski Team now has her frosty focus on one evasive prize: an Olympic gold medal.

Clichés are rolled out as often as New Year resolutions, but the title really has been ‘her dream’ throughout her entire life. Having made her first tentative Bambi-esque steps on the Colorado slopes at the tender age of two, Vonn’s love affair with the snow was instantaneous. Now recognised as one of the fastest women in conquering the contours of the trickiest of pistes, Vonn’s rapidly usurped her rivals to dominate both American and World alpine skiing competitions, fulfilling the promise and potential she possessed as a junior. Vonn now spends the majority of her time in the winter sports utopia that is Europe. Creating what she describes as a ‘great team’, Vonn’s fortunate enough to have already assembled stable surroundings, which helps whilst clocking up the miles on the road for up to eight months of the year. Lindsey Kildow adopted the Vonn surname having married her fellow 2002 Olympian and US Ski Team athlete Thomas Vonn in 2007, the name most skiing enthusiasts have come to know her by. Like the majority of successful sporting stars, the speed-freak has successfully come through

As we head towards the end of yet another season come March, Vonn will later this year approach her preliminary steps towards her Olympic Mecca. The Minnesota native’s competitive streak hasn’t dwindled following her recent successes and there’s evidence of an underlying desire to prove her Olympic doubters wrong. “I always thought it was going to change my life,” she told the New York Times. “I thought of all the people who had won and I held them in such high esteem. I don’t think of myself like that at all. I’m still the same person, just little Lindsey.” ‘Little Lindsey’ is now a big player and maybe her gift of a legacy isn’t that unrealistic. With a burning ambition to witness her name added to the envied list of skiing’s most versatile athletes, there’s no doubt this role model wishes to be remembered as one of the greatest. With superior performances stored in the locker and her career continuing to snowball onwards, that Olympic ecstasy will surely become achievable in 2010. Vonn will hope to finally embed her qualities into her nation’s consciousness, an aspect Shaun White has ‘nailed’ in recent years. In the slightly adapted words of her new President, ‘Yes she can’.

SPORT

THE HILLS ARE ALIVE

Sleek sportswear you can take from slopes to streets

by CLEO DAVIS

Dressing correctly and looking comfortable on the snowboard is paramount on the piste. In the Shaun White world of boarding, there is not exception for foul-looking freeriders. Think back to the days of flashy, one-piece neon pink and green ski suits and you’ll be reminded why snowboarding fashion is so necessary in this day and age. Whether it’s snowboard apparel like boots, gloves, hats, jackets or trousers, snowboarding wear has managed to fuse performance and style into something that you can be worn to the hill or anywhere else that’s prone to winter conditions. Advancements in weatherproof fabrics and a fashion culture bridging sports like skateboarding and snowboarding have made for clothing lines that are as suitable on the streets as they are in the elements. The clothing even goes as far as seasonal snowboard fashion trends; these trends are very similar to skaters and surfer styles, with a mixture of punk, rock, and urban grunge. Snow apparel has got a lot more technical, especially for snowboarding. It seems that as far as bridging the gap to streetwear, it is not the same as high fashion, but is definitely influenced by it. Clothing built to withstand a chilly ride in an alpine chairlift is just as suitable for the walk to work in the city. Getting the most wear and style out of a jacket that costs between £120 and £400 makes sense. In the 13 years that Burton fashion has been making its mark on the mountains, it has seen snow clothing evolve under the influence of fashion. Jake Burton Carpenter, whose Burton line has set the tone for snowboarding style for more than 15 years, maintains that skiwear companies have peddled an elitist idea of sportswear that has little style cred. “For years,” he said, “ski fashion was either crazy, over-the-top non-functional, with tight pants and fur collars, or really crazy technical. And the technical stuff was ugly. We brought a sense of logic to it,” he added. “Why would you wear skin-tight pants on the mountain if you wouldn’t wear them on the street?”. Designing with a broad clientele in mind, Burton now has several labels, including the elegant Mark XIII line for stylish older men; the AK performance line, designed for anti-style sorts; and the edgier Ronin. All of them would work as well on the streets of London as on the slopes, a claim no Bogner jumpsuit can make. 1. Anon Burnout pink sunglasses for the fashionably fearless 2. Labelled ‘Lush’, this ladies jacket contains critically tapered seams for a tailored slim fit. The Burton Slim Fit line is a streetwear fit for snow. The fur trim is removable 3. The B by Burton Executive Bib Pant; a roomy yet super stylish piece that can be adapted to many looks on and off the board 4. The Ronin Utility Jacket features 2-Layer laminated fabric and a Dryride Durashell for the serious snow seekers 5. Jean-look Burton Shank Denim Pitch. Available in Burton Slim Fit and Sig Fit - baggy, but not gigantic - At the request of their riders, they have made the Sig Fit slightly longer for added style.

SPORT

VENI,VIDI,

VIDIC

As Nemanja Vidic celebrates his third anniversary since arriving on English soil, ANGLOMANIA charts the rise and rise of one of the Premiership’s great foreign success stories photos: Magnus Ekström assistant: Mads Stigborg production: Malkit Singh styling: Christian Schleisner text: PAUL JOSEPH interview Véronique de freitas

T-shirt: Matinique

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red jacket: PUMA

striped long-sleeved t-shirt: Cottonfield checked shirt: J. Lindeberg jeans: J. Lindeberg trainers: Puma jacket: Puma

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The Ballon d’Or – also known as the European Footballer of the Year trophy – has always been dominated by artists, rather than artisans. But sometimes, just sometimes, a player emerges whose more prosaic talents are simply impossible to ignore. Nemanja Vidic, Manchester United’s Serbian international, is one of a rare breed: a defender from the Tony Adams, rather than the Franco Baresi, school of defending, who has made the 30-man shortlist for the prestigious award, presented by the French football magazine France Football and its illustrious voting panel. Equally surprising is the absence of Rio Ferdinand, Vidic’s regular partner in central defence at Old Trafford and the kind of ball-playing centre half who is typically favoured as part of the voting panel’s regular exercise in defensive tokenism. But make no mistake: Vidic’s inclusion is utterly deserved. Since arriving in England in January 2006, the 27-year-old has cemented his reputation as one of Europe’s most formidable defenders. His partnership with Ferdinand has provided the cornerstone for United’s haul of two Premiership titles and a Champions League victory in the last two seasons, and he has rapidly acquired cult status amongst the United faithful who marvel at his unquenchable thirst for clean sheets and his fearless approach to achieving them. An interview with a Russian magazine in August, in which he perpetuated the popular image of Manchester as rainy and dull, and cast doubts on his future at Old Trafford, threatened to damage the relationship. He had no intention, the interview said, to live in the city beyond his playing days. He also bemoaned the lack of options for a social life in England. “I will never stay to live in England, that’s for sure,” Vidic was quoted as saying. “You get only a brief glimpse of sunlight before it’s all cloudy again. The winters are mild, but in summer the temperatures seldom go higher than 20C. And it rains, rains, rains. In future, I would like to test myself in another top league. I’m thinking of Spain. At least there will be no reason to complain about the weather. In England, they say that Manchester is the city of rain. Its main attraction is considered to be the timetable at the railway station, where trains leave for other, less rainy cities.” Vidic was quick to retract the comments, claiming they were taken out of context, and the episode has largely been shrugged off by fans who appreciate that footballers and their words are often manipulated in such situations.

One indisputable fact is that Vidic has come too far to let it all slip now. Born to Dragoljub, a retired copper factory worker, and Zora, a bank clerk, Vidic was spotted by Red Star Belgrade while playing for local side Sloboda Užice aged 12. Two and a half years later, before his 15th birthday, Belgrade signed Vidic to their youth system. But it was not until the 2001/02 season that Vidic stamped his mark on Yugoslav football. He won the 2001/02 Yugoslav Cup and gained the captain’s armband, which he would hold for three trophy-laden years. Word began to spread of one of eastern Europe’s most promising young defenders. In 2004 he joined Russian giants Spartak Moscow for a fee that was reported to be the most expensive in the history of the Russian Premier League for a defender. But his move to one of the traditional European big leagues was always inevitable, and with its physical requirements English football was the obvious destination. The theory that old-school, ‘Row Z’ defenders cannot cut it in the more technical Spanish or Italian leagues is perhaps a self-fulfilling prophecy, with few players of this ilk willing to take the risk of exposing their limitations (remember Sol Campbell chose to stay in England despite offers from Barcelona and Inter Milan during his Tottenham days). But it remains a theory that has yet to be comprehensively debunked. And so it was that on January 5, 2006, Vidic signed for Manchester United for a reported fee of around £7 million, following two and a half years of interest from Sir Alex Ferguson. Within six months he had formed arguably the Premiership’s strongest defensive partnership. He began augmenting his defensive game with a healthy penchant for goals at the other end; his heading ability proving a dangerous weapon from set-pieces (his latest goal coming this season against Hull City at Old Trafford in a 4-3 victory). Comparisons began to be made with a United legend of yesteryear: Steve Bruce. Meanwhile Vidic’s personal life was also taking shape, and on July 17 he married Ana Ivanovic, an Economics student at the University of Belgrade. Together, they have a son named Luka. The individual plaudits were welcome, but true success in football is measured in the collective, and in his second full season at Old Trafford, Vidic was an integral part of Alex Ferguson’s second Champions League-winning team. He even managed to endear himself to United fans even further by inciting the sending off of Chelsea striker Didier Drogba during the Champions League final in May, which the Manchester club won on penalties. Drogba has since said he wished he’d “punched” Vidic during the incident. If Vidic takes to physical combat in anything like the same way he tackles the art of defending, then Drogba may well reflect that he chose the more sensible course of action.

leather jacket: J. Lindeberg hoody: Puma tank top: J. Lindeberg cardigan: J. Lindeberg jeans: Puma shoes: Alexander McQueen for Puma jacket: Puma

SPORT

THE INTERVIEW

by Véronique de Freitas

Once you meet Nemanja Vidic, you realise that his striking resemblance to the Ivan Drago character in Rocky IV is merely on a physical level. Instead of the iron man persona played by Dolph Lundgren in the film, the Serbian defender is a friendly and down-to-earth guy who likes to joke and doesn’t take himself too seriously. ANGLOMANIA went to Manchester to meet the United guardian, and had a friendly chat about his career, his future at Manchester and his home country. How does it feel when football experts call you the best defender in the Premier League and Europe? (He smiles) It is always good when people speak good things about you. I am very proud of course. Once people say good things about you, this encourages you to give your best, to show them they were right. But it is not so good when they criticise you, but that’s the game. Why do you wear the number 15? I didn’t pick the number 15. A defender can choose between three numbers, usually 16, 15 and... I don’t remember the third one. The 15 was available, but my number, the one I really wanted was 26. I had it for five years in Spartak Moscow and Red Star Belgrade. But then when the 26 became available I didn’t want to change – I was doing well with the 15. It is not that I am superstitious, but I didn’t want risk it. (He laughs) Which striker do you fear the most? I can’t say that I fear anybody on the pitch, but the player that is the most difficult to play against... (he thinks) it is hard to say only one name because in this league (English) there are a lot of good strikers; Drogba, Adebayor, Van Persie... ...But you are lucky because the best strikers are in your own team, such as Rooney, Berbatov and Ronaldo (He smiles) Yes, it is true we have quality players at Manchester United. It is very good for me because I get to play against them during the training sessions and it improves the way I play. Who is your best friend in the team? I have a very good relationship with Rio. He helped me a lot when I first came here and we have a good partnership on the pitch and outside. We understand each other well... (he stops and starts to laugh) I mean friendship of course, nothing else – we are good friends. How is your relationship with Sir Alex Ferguson? Very professional. He is the manager. He decides the team. He gave me the confidence in the beginning when I needed it the most. He helped me a lot when I arrived at United. He is a good man. We have a good relationship but not only with me, he has a good rapport with all players. He is not strict, he understands the players but doesn’t push it – you need to know your limits. He does his best to help players. He is like a father, but if you do something wrong, he will tell you. He likes fun and likes to joke. He is a good coach and he knows how to deal with football players.

Your Serbian team mate Zoran Tosic joined Manchester United from Red Star Belgrade in January. What was your advice to him? He plays in the national team but I didn’t really know him that well. We have only played together a few times. He is young and is a quality player. Unlike me when I came here, he will have somebody who went through the same experience. The only thing he needs to know is that I’ll be here to help him. This league is different. I came from Russia and Serbia where it is a different culture and different football and I had to learn how to play in the English league. Zoran cannot play the same football he plays in Europe. He needs to adapt his game to the one here. He will need to adapt to the way we play and the way we train. It is tough here and every training session is hard. Where I come from, we used to rest before matches and on the day of the match, we would work really hard. Here, it is constant hard work; before, during and after the match. Who was your football hero when you were young? Dejan Savicevic and Vladimir Jugovic. They were part of the 1991’s European Cup with the Red Star Belgrade. Actually, all of the 91 Red Star team are my football heroes. Savicevic and Jugovic both played in front. When I was young I didn’t idolise defenders, I don’t know why. Having said that, did you always play in defence? I didn’t choose to be a defender. When I first started to play football, they gave me the right wing position but it didn’t last – I don’t think I was good enough (he laughs). As a result, I ended up in defence. I don’t think players can choose where they want to play – it is the coach that tries us out and gives us the best position. In your opinion, what elements contribute to a good match and could you choose a favourite? This is a hard question. For a striker, it’s when he scores a goal; for a defender, it is hard to say. I am satisfied when we win the match and I don’t concede goals. If I don’t loose the ball, I feel happy; I feel like I have done my job. But to answer your question I would say when we won the Champions League. Where would you like to finish your career? Manchester? I don’t know. I am still enjoying it here. England is home to the best football and Manchester is the best club. It is hard to go somewhere now after Manchester. I am happy here at the moment, but in the future I might think to move somewhere else. If I am healthy, I plan to play until I am 34 years old, so it is possible that at 33, I might decide to go somewhere else in Europe to finish my career, I don’t know, we never know in football; it is hard to predict. What do you miss the most from Serbia? I miss many things; family and friends, food like cevapi, pjeskavitsa (Serbian’s traditional food) and Turkish coffee to name a few. There are a lot of things, it is hard to pick one. Everyone misses home at times. When I go back it is relaxing. I just eat and drink coffee and do nothing. It is always good to go back home.

Banking on

the Ball 40

RICH

LISTS Players 1. David Beckham

£125m

2. Michael Owen

£40m

3. Wayne Rooney

£35m

4= Rio Ferdinand

£28m

4= Robbie Fowler

£28m

4= Sol Campbell

£28m

£23m

8= Michael Ballack

£20m

8= Frank Lampard

£20m

7. Ryan Giggs

10. Steven Gerrard

£19m

CLUBS 1. Shekh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nayan Manchester City £15bn 2. Lakshmi Mittal and family QPR 3. Roman Abramovich Chelsea

£12.5bn

£7bn

4. Joe Lewis Tottenham Hotspur

£2.5bn

5. Bernie and Slavica Ecclestone QPR

£2.4bn

6. Stanley Kroenke Arsenal 7. Alisher Usmanov Arsenal

£2.245bn

£1.5bn

8 = Lord Grantchester & the Moores family Everton £1.2bn 8 = Dermot Desmond Celtic

£1.2bn

10 = Lord Ashcroft Watford

£1.1bn

10 = Malcolm Glazer and family Manchester United

£1.1bn

SPORT The football clubs of England are nothing but play-toys of some of the world’s richest bankrollers. Good news then for Mark Hughes who now has unfathomable sums from the wells of middle-eastern oil in the pocket of Manchester City. Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan has spent £210 million buying up 90 percent of the Manchester City stake. When looking at his mass fortune, it’s relative pocket change for the wealthy brother of Abu Dhabi’s ruler – the family fortune has an estimated £555 billion to spend on foreign assets alone; a safety net that will cover the family when their oil reserve is exhausted. Funding football clubs may not appear to be the most profitable of investments (Roman Abramovich has so far spent £600 million on Chelsea since 2003) but with a downturn for most of the world’s economy that’s predicted to slump further in the coming years, spending Abu Dhabi’s petty cash on sport entertainment seems as good an investment as any. Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan claims it’s his love of the game that has prompted the hefty buy, but speculation rests on the ongoing rivalry between the Abu Dhabi and Dubai families – both racing to become the most entrepreneurial and sport-associated areas in the region. Whatever the reason, the funding of Manchester City couldn’t have come at a better time. Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan is planning on making the club a global super-team: a shopping list of all the great and the good currently playing elsewhere will be coming into fruition throughout 2009, including an outstanding £135 million to steal Cristiano Ronaldo away from Manchester United. Rolling it Over? Roman Abramovich’s silence in recent months is creating an uneasy stir through the ranks of Chelsea fans. The Russian billionaire is rumoured to be having a bit of a hard time (relatively, of course) during the 2007-2008 economic downturn, despite gaining over $13 billion in liquid assets after selling his stake in Sibneff Gas. Abramovich is apparently deciding whether or not to leave his once-beloved club and hefty investment. There has never been any doubt regarding the commitment that Abramovich has shown toward the development of his blue boys; bringing in a scattering of top quality players (though most of them spent last season on the bench) and the glorified Phil Scolari who has since proven to be a slight disappointment. The race to buy Champions League teams has been slowing down since last year, and it’s unsurprising to hear that the rich moguls of the world are becoming wary of uncertain investments: unfortunately Abramovich is the blueprint case of losing more than they can possibly hope to recuperate. The Russian’s itchy feet are easily explained: the £600 million spent on the club is yet to have any monetary benefits and the Champions League defeat of Chelsea in Moscow (the one prize Abramovich desperately wanted) hit home hard. His laudable idea that the Chelsea team “live more within their means” appears to demonstrate dissatisfaction with his investment, and has stoked the rumours of a Chelsea offload. Whether or not Abramovich supported the club for a love of the game or for return investment (which is highly unlikely) it’s becoming clear that Chelsea’s allure is wearing a little thin. Making Millions Earning more than three times the amount of the second player in the world’s richest footballers list, David Beckham has become the sultan earner of his profession. The Beckham mansion and other high-profile investments have become almost as famous as the player’s left foot. With a base salary from Galaxy of around £3.7 million and advertising endorsement of Pepsi, Adidas, Gillette and his own Beckham Brand Ltd, the world-renowned player and his family are swimming in cash. Which is probably why Brooklyn has recently acquired a toy-car porsche – handcrafted and powered by a Diesel engine. The nifty little ‘toy’ cost around £50,000 and is a one-seater so solely for little Beckham’s cruising missions. The Beckhams have also enquired about an apartment in the Burj Dubai Tower which, although not yet completed, is already the world’s tallest tower with a planned final height of 820 meters. The building was designed by Italian designer Armani, and will have 144 apartments, each costing in the region of £5 million. Michael Owen comes a paltry second to the Beckham wealth, but the player is worth £41 million (estimated in 2008) and ranked 12th place in the Sunday Times 30-and-under rich list. The Newcastle striker is followed by Wayne Rooney, worth £35 million, who also follows him closely on the rich list coming 13th in the 30-and-under list, with girlfriend Coleen McLoughlin. An interesting development no doubt, for a young man brought up on a Merseyside council estate.

SPORT

Super-Bowled Over

by Nick Dines

Billed as the greatest show on earth, the Super Bowl is broadcast in over 230 countries and attracts a reported mind-blowing worldwide audience of more than one billion viewers. However, this year it was to be one billion plus one. This was to be my first NFL experience, otherwise known as a Noviceâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Football Liaison 42

SPORT Super Bowl XLIII, Pittsburgh Steelers vs. Arizona Cardinals at Tampa’s Raymond James Stadium. The classic offence against defence contest had all the hype of a summer blockbuster movie. Outside, a numbing blizzard was taking its toll on London, yet inside The Sports Cafe, melting Tampa-esque temperatures took hold. The frosty snowy peaks gathering outside were replaced by the peak of the baseball cap; the stereotypical signature of the ‘pumped’ American sports fanatic. Here was a venue steeped in recent sporting spectacle, witnessing every Ronaldo goal, Shane Williams try, Tiger putt and Hatton knockout. Two floors packed with plasma screen TVs and projectors hypnotising every sports fan within the vicinity. A West-End location I’d describe as a ‘Ronseal’ venue as it’s exactly what it says on the tin. The extent of my NFL knowledge had been limited to the infamous and incarcerated O.J. Simpson, however, here I was finally witnessing and recognising the stars regularly shown on episodes of MTV Cribs. I had previously been oblivious to these sporting personalities but at least I knew what they had in their fridge. My first hurdle was to accept this as ‘real’ football. The game I’d grown to love and invest a great deal of time, effort and finance in had to be relegated to being known as ‘soccer’ for the evening. I felt dirty, like I was cheating on a long-term partner. I was very much out of my comfort zone and soon realised this was not going to be a walk in the park or, in this case, gridiron field. Having just witnessed the enthralling Melbourne encounter of tennis’s finest, Nadal and Federer, followed by Liverpool’s bruising Premier League victory against Chelsea at Anfield, the Super Bowl and the circus that comes with it was the cherry on my indulgent sporting Sunday menu. Super Bowl XLIII smacked of a classic event as the finale of Jennifer Hudson’s rousing yet highly emotional rendition of Star-Spangled Banner brought yelps and hollers of “Let’s get it on” as the big game approached kick-off. The abundance of TVs may have been in HD, however, I more than most wanted to witness this tussle in high definition. Having a sporadic interest in rugby, usually coinciding with the Six Nations or World Cup, I at least found myself at a sporting halfway house, making my American football transition a little easier. Thankfully, I was slotted within a pack of hardcore yet welcoming British and American NFL fanatics, each clad in an oversized jersey showcasing where their loyalties lay. Following a blitz of bite-size tutoring from the knowledgeable and light-hearted group, I was soon prepared for battle. Here was a new fluent language altogether: four fifteen-minute quarters full of gamebreakers, turnovers, running and passing games. A real eye-opener. With ludicrous betting slips present, it was apparent that gambling is very much a ‘football’ institution along with the cheerleaders, chicken and beer culture – many even resorting to the bizarre bet of the coin toss and some punts so far off that a banker turning down a city bonus was a more likely event. Having shaken off my cautious, glass half-empty British nature, I swiftly became hypnotised by the razzmatazz and verve, developing a patriotic in-your-face approach before becoming an honouree yank for the night. Armed with jug after jug of the establishment’s finest ice-cold beer, I was engulfed with euphoric high-fives

In what proved a rather alien experience, each advertising break was met with excitement and intrigue as well as regular snow and transport failure updates. It’s common knowledge of the vast finances behind each advertising slot during the commercial magnet that is the Super Bowl, with certain 30-second slots costing a reported $2.7 million. Each break brought welcome respite as the likes of Transformers 2, Star Trek, Lost and Heroes trailers brought mass gasps of fascination. I attempted to call my own timeout to dissect what exactly was going on, although a half-time firework frenzy and Bruce Springsteen’s sensational ‘rocking’ 12-minute set put pay to that, the Boss and his E Street band owning the joint. Here was a feast of glitz, glamour and marching bands to put Barack Obama’s presidential inauguration in the shade, with a concoction of Hollywood jazz and hard-hitting southern tenacity. Armed with shot glasses and spirits, stunning scantily-clad yet angelic cheerleaders caressed the bar with devilish intentions. I was well and truly engrossed with the whole event – after all, nobody quite achieves a sporting spectacle like the Americans. No team had ever come back from more than 10 points behind to triumph in the Super Bowl, so 16 unanswered points from the Cardinals had me and the rest of the astonished venue in amazement. Arizona’s key ingredients had finally come to the boil with quarterback veteran Kurt Warner and receiver Larry Fitzgerald finding their rhythm, the latter living up to the reputation I’d been informed of. As the game approached its magnificent climax and Arizona leading for the first time with three minutes to go thanks to another Fitzgerald touchdown, gloating renditions of You’re Not Singing Anymore, aimed towards the Steelers congregation, filled the venue. Good-natured banter was swiftly traded with loyal cries of “Let’s go Steelers, let’s go” before the universally understood “Who are ya?” broke out, assisted by the obligatory pointed hand gesture more akin to the stands at White Hart Lane or Upton Park. The game had everything; a seemingly unassailable 13-point lead by the third quarter and a courageous Cardinals comeback before the pendulum swung for the final time quicker than you can say ‘Janet Jackson’s nipple-gate’. The Steelers secured the title with Santonio Holmes finding the endzone with a theatrical diving touchdown with just 35 seconds remaining on the clock. An unprecedented sixth Super Bowl title for the Steelers meant that at 36, coach Mike Tomlin became the youngest Head Coach ever to win the Super Bowl. Even the creative and concoctive mind of J.K. Rowling couldn’t have written it. At this point I was continuously reminded what a great year it was to decide to take in my first Super Bowl experience. “The game started a little slowly but come the end, this year’s probably ranks up there with the best in Super Bowl history,” concluded neutral fan on the night and one of my patient tutors, Dan Baker. Both sets of players most definitely pulled through for me with a thrilling 27-23 contest. No wonder there was a lack of grit on the British roads; it was all taken up in the Raymond James Stadium. It was almost as if these colossal Trojan-like

and chest bumps all round in what appeared a warm-up for Spring break. Yeah baby!

battering rams were making a gloating Gladiatorial Russell Crowe statement: “Are you not entertained?”

Whether it was minutes, yards, points, plays, downs or numbers emblazed on shirts, from an outsider’s point of view American football is a mathematician’s dream, with figures and stats coming at you from all angles. Going into the half-time break Pittsburgh were in control, the highlight being the Steelers’ lungbursting record 100-yard James Harrison interception touchdown on the stroke of half time, which literally had everyone on their feet. Pittsburgh quarterback Ben Roethlisberger was pulling the strings and the tense contest that I yearned for couldn’t have been further from reality.

As the Steelers’ love affair with the Vincent Lombardi trophy went well into the Tampa night amidst camera flashes and confetti, London’s white tickertape continued to fall. It was 4am, I was weary and had all the signs of Super Bowl fever, however, this was a bug I didn’t mind catching. Roll on Miami 2010.

www.thesportscafe.net

Six Nations

Try Again Can the Welsh do it again? Will the nations gang up on England? Which players are the ones to watch? Charlotte Jones predicts a season of intense competition and high drama words: CHARLOTTE JONES images: JOHN DAVIS

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Regardless of the debate over and comparison between past and present international playersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; technique and quality, the rise in popularity of the sport cannot be ignored.

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In January of this year the Six Nations Championship, the most significant northern hemisphere rugby tournament, secured a further four-year sponsorship contract with the Royal Bank of Scotland, reportedly worth £20 million. This is an incredible sum given that until 1993 the tournament was the only major sporting championship in Europe lacking a trophy. This was rectified by the Earl of Westmorland who commissioned a £55,000 silver cup with a capacity of five bottles of champagne, one representing each of the competing nations at that time, for presentation to the winning team at the end of the championship, in France that particular year. Without a doubt, the trophy, a symbol of the tournament’s growing stature, proved to be one of the catalysts which raised the pitch of the ongoing debate regarding the players’ status as amateur sportsmen. In 1995, the International Rugby Board (IRB) removed the salary restrictions with two hopes: first, players would no longer be enticed to play for league teams offering a generous salary instead of union teams who, in theory, offered nothing; second, any union team’s payments for so-called expenses (often perceived as a sum contained in a brown envelope deposited in a player’s shoe) could be monitored, curbed and controlled. There has been much deliberation over the decision by avid rugby fans, some arguing that giving the players opportunity to pursue careers as professional sportsmen so that they can concentrate solely on training and playing has resulted in the sacrifice of skill for mere might. Regardless of the debate over and comparison between past and present international players’ technique and quality, the rise in popularity of the sport cannot be ignored. The players’ increasing celebrity status and the media attention focused on them have naturally helped to promote popular interest in the sport. In recent years, rugby players and their spouses have begun to be regarded, albeit to a lesser extent, as the Beckhams, most notably Sergio Parisse and former Miss France and Miss Europe Alexandra Rosenfeld; Gavin Henson and classical-turned-pop singer Charlotte Church; and most recently, Danny Cipriani and model Kelly Brook. In contrast to the situation pre-1995, rugby players have no parallel career to fall back on. Gone are the days when they could retire from sport to continue a job, typically practising medicine, teaching, marketing or climbing the corporate management ladder. With the current emphasis on physical might rather than technique, there has been an increase in injuries, some of which have prematurely ended careers of the most promising players. Consequently, players are forced to make the most of their short sporting careers. Thankfully, with the growth in popularity of the sport, and often being regarded as national heroes, players are able to take advantage of lucrative advertising deals, giving footballers a run for their money. This February saw International Rugby Player of 2008, Shane Williams, England captain, Steve Borthwick, and England wing, Paul Sackey, strip off for a Powerade advertising campaign. With bodies resembling Ancient Greek or Roman Gods, it would be unrealistic to expect players not to profit while they can from the attention they generate because with playing rugby comes a real risk of major injury and paralysis. Understandably, older-generation fans dislike the incipient intrusion of celebrity culture and status, fearing the sport will begin to deteriorate and attract the farcical elements too often prevalent in football across the world. Nevertheless, tickets for international matches sell out in record time and spectators, comprising every generation, continue to enjoy the

same aged traditions, particularly the songs which play on the stereotypes of the nations: the Irish are in the pubs, the Welsh are down the mines, the Italians are in church, the French are revolting, the English are tyrants, and the Scots are quite simply, bitter. Despite the somewhat naïve branding, these songs are considered jovial rather than offensive. The most important tradition, perhaps less so for latecomer Italy who only joined the tournament in 2000, but certainly for the nations with Celtic roots, is the long-standing united desire to make England suffer, reflected in the common chant, “We hate England more than you!” Even Welsh rock stars, The Stereophonics, got in on the act when in 1999 they released a song empathising with these sentiments, entitled As long as we beat the English. For players and fans, whether their tipple of choice is whisky, wine, Guinness or Brains, alcohol and music go hand-in-hand with rugby. So much so, that before rugby union turned professional, players would meet at the pub to drink and sing before going to play. Now of course, with the introduction of salaries, only post-match drinking and celebrating are allowed, still often in copious quantities, particularly among the forwards. For the French there is one other important element, arguably the most bizarre tradition in the championship. Before each home game, cockerels, the French national symbol of both rural life and fighting to the death, are released onto the pitch. Animal rights activists condemn the French for this practice but their fondness for the creature is actually quite astounding, and in the 2003 World Cup there was great concern for the cockerel when it was diagnosed as suffering from depression stemming from its being forced to lead a double-life as a mascot, away from its family. Thankfully, there are no plans for the English to parade a pride of lions at Twickenham and the Welsh will struggle to track down a dragon or two for the Millennium Stadium. Of course, the question on every fan’s lips is, “Can Wales win the Grand Slam in two consecutive years?” After a spectacular win against Australia in the Tri-Nation games, they were regarded as firm favourites. News of injuries to flankers Lewis Moody and Tom Rees, in addition to the ban on prop Matt Stevens for illegal drug use, has left England somewhat short of the vital experience they so desperately need after a poor autumn – a catalogue of mishaps which undoubtedly increased Welsh confidence. However, Wales did not escape injuries at the start the season; first-choice scrum-half Gareth Cooper having to rest in order to recover from a knee injury. There was also serious doubt regarding full-back Lee Byrne’s health after he suffered an ankle injury at the hand of his Ospreys and Wales teammate, scrum-half, Mike Phillips. Scotland was also unfortunate to start the season without, arguably, their most impressive full-back in history Rory Lamont. In contrast, the French, Italian and Irish avoided serious injuries to star players before the start of the season, leaving their coaches with few selection problems. Given the increasing popularity of rugby, the infusion of new talent, and the unpredictability of injuries, the 2009 Six Nations Championship could prove to be the most open and most exciting yet, so a back-to-back Grand Slam win for Wales could prove as elusive as that dragon. Whatever the outcome, one thing is for sure: alcohol sales and vocal harmony will peak during the fifteen games in the period to 21st March.

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Lionheart Lewsey

interview: Nick Dines photography: Reuters / Eddie Keogh

SPORT Having been an integral force in the golden generation of English rugby’s class of 2003, London Wasps’ Josh Lewsey retired from the international scene late last year, catching many by surprise. However, relinquishing his international duties may yet prove fruitful for one of British rugby’s most successful players, as it’s clear that this British Lion is ready to roar in South Africa.

You said you’d ‘prefer to be part of a winning club side than a losing international one’. With the Six Nations now in full swing, do you still stand by that statement? I made my decision and I stick by that. There’s always a part of you that wants to be out on the field playing, whether you’re 32, 42 or 72. Representing your country is very special and I loved doing it; however, international rugby isn’t just about the 80 minutes on the field.

Firstly, congratulations on the book. What made you decide that the time was right to write your autobiography One Chance, My Life and Rugby? I was approached and thought, ‘Why not?’ I had last summer off and we won the title at the end of last season with Wasps, therefore to my mind it felt like a fitting time to do it. I’ve really enjoyed writing it.

There’s an awful lot of time away from home and your club. In order to make that worthwhile you have to feel like you’re adding something. I simply felt that during the period when I wasn’t being utilised, I‘d have a better contribution at Wasps than I was internationally.

You have a physiology degree, a post-graduate degree in law and you’ve served as a Commissioned Officer in the British Army for two years despite only being 32. How important is to have interests off the field? Sport generally is probably the best job in the world when everything’s going well. There are of course times when things are slightly more trying. Often you can drive yourself mad contemplating what’s going wrong. At those times it’s very healthy to retain a level of perspective and having interests outside the game really helps. You described your adventurous trek to the base camp of K2 as ‘the hardest thing I’d ever done’. Are there further adrenaline junkie trips on the horizon? I’d like to do something bigger and better in the future. I’ve always enjoyed just being outside, travelling around and sampling different experiences. Being in an Islamic republic in the northern frontier of Pakistan, bordering Afghanistan and China, I found culturally fascinating, especially sampling the goat’s spine soup for three weeks! What lessons did you take into your sporting career from experiences gained in the army? It’s proved a very good mental lesson more than anything else in terms of learning to control the things that you have an influence on. I learnt to not worry about factors outside my own influence. Also, one of the biggest aspects was in 2003 during the Rugby World Cup. People were then talking about nerves, but all I had to do was play rugby for 80 minutes. My mates were fire fighting in Iraq – what was the worst that could happen to me? In the grand scheme of things it was quite a leveller for me; having friends at the time so closely involved in far more serious matters. Following such a disappointing Lions campaign in 2005, do you still feel you have unfinished business with the one elusive achievement missing from your rugby career? There’s been a lot made of this Lions thing this year. I’ve said, ‘Yes I’m available and I’d love to go’. Of course I would; every player in Britain would love to go and it’s the only thing I haven’t won. The beauty of the Lions is that it’s not just about the quality of players, there’s something special about the element of character with various nations uniting to create one side. It’s both very special and traditional and the highest accolade a player can have. However, it’s not my raison d’être.

Having retired from the international scene, have you managed to retain that big match enthusiasm by just playing club rugby with Wasps? It’s all well and good having big match players, which our club undoubtedly has, but you need big matches to play in. Being knocked out of the Heineken Cup was devastating and the most frustrating thing is that we did enough in that game to win two or three times over so it was bitterly disappointing. We’re now fighting the war on one front, which is the Premiership, so we’re going to give it everything we’ve got. You describe Martin Johnson in your book as ‘English rugby’s Bobby Moore’. Are you worried that his current position may ultimately damage his reputation? I don’t think he can damage his reputation as a player. He’ll always be a great player and a great man. He stepped out of rugby for a while and the easy thing would have been to stay in the comfort zone so it’s a very bold move to step back into coaching, but I’m very pleased that he’s involved. The challenge for him and England is to raise the bar and try and climb back up those world standings. International rugby is about winning. It’s a cruel environment where if you’re not up to the task, you get exposed whether as a player or coach. He’s man enough to realise that’s the reality. Having experienced many a battle, what’s so special about competing in the Six Nations? It’s the history that goes along with it and it’s a real celebration of British rugby. Pilgrimages of rugby fans go on these annual trips from various parts of the British Isles. You look at the hundreds of thousands of people travelling around the UK and how often do you hear of any problems? As a player, you know what the atmosphere is going to be like, especially against Wales in Cardiff. However all the fixtures are all pretty special because everyone wants to beat England and put one over them. If you could create the perfect Six Nations specimen, made up of current players, which players’ attributes would you piece together? I’d pick Paul Sackey’s pace over Shane Williams but use Shane’s agility. Then there’s Andy Sheridan’s strength, Stephen Jones’s boot, Ronan O’Gara’s brain and in terms of leadership there’s a few good guys such as Paul O’Connell, as I like what he stands for but Ryan Jones also has a sensible head on him. Finally, are you concerned that rugby’s following the route of football in terms of media

My firm focus is with Wasps. I learnt a long time ago to not worry about factors outside of my control. Where do you stand on the creation of a GB Olympic football team, similar to the Lions concept? I’d be surprised if some of the clubs, paying the amount of money to their players that they do, would release them for a competition like that. I’d be interested to see how that one manifests itself.

attention and celebrity culture? As the game matures and more money comes into it, guys are now coming into the game younger and therefore all they’ve known is full-time professional rugby. What’s made rugby great is that anyone from any background can come together to play in a sport where you’re judged on the character that you are on the field. As long as you’ve got that culture and ethos of playing for one another rather than playing for yourself then rugby will be fine.

One Chance - My Life and Rugby by Josh Lewsey is available now (Virgin Books)

10 things YOU DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT Lewis Hamilton 1. Hamilton’S FAVOURITE CUISINE IS JAPANESE, SUSHI IN PARTICULAR 2. His greatest fear is being eaten alive by a great white shark 3. He has three Blue Peter badges 4. His favourite band is Chaka Demus and Pliers 5. Every morning he eats Sugar Puffs with added sugar 6. Hamilton paid £200,000 for the licence plate LEW 1S 7. The song I Think I’m in Love on the Pussycat Dolls’ latest album was written about Hamilton by his girlfriend 8. If he hadn’t been a driver, he would love to sing 9. His favourite first corner is Barcelona 10. His favourite restaurant is Shanghai Blues in London’s Holborn 51

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LEWIS HAMILTON

WINNING FORMULA

by VéRONIQUE DE FREITAS

Lewis Hamilton became the youngest Formula One world champion at the age of 23, after a dramatic final lap in Brazil. He drove through all the doubts and the rainstorm to claim his place in history.

His career started in 1993 when he was eight years old and by the age of 10 Lewis had won his first British Karting championship. A further four British Karting championships followed in 1996 and 1997.

Anyone who might not have heard of Hamilton before, knows all about him now. Even some political leaders are on his case. Congratulatory messages pinged out of number 10 and Conservative Central Office. Hamilton’s significance as a sporting icon is largely lost on him. Even David Cameron said that Hamilton is “Now officially a British sporting legend and a role model for what you can achieve if you follow your dream”.

Lewis’s pre-Formula One career was one of the most convincing of the recent crop of young drivers. He won several karting series throughout 1998 to 2000 with backing from McLaren. He won European and World Karting titles and was crowned Karting World No. 1 in 2000 at the age of 15. Eight years later, Lewis remains the youngest ever World Karting No. 1.

It seems that the spirit and flair which made him a champion was evident from the moment he got his first taste of racing aged eight. “This is the culmination of 16 years of hard work, and we have to hope this is inspirational for other families and kids. We had no money when we started out but now we’re here on top of the world. The reality is it can be done,” said Hamilton’s father Anthony. Last year, Lewis was also on the brink of history, he was one race away from becoming the only driver to win the Formula One World championship in his first year. But his talent was trumped by his inexperience, and rash mistakes in the last two races cost him the crown. However, he won his crown in 2008 by the same margin. In 2007, going into the final race of the season in Brazil, Hamilton led Raikkonen by seven points and the Finn went on to win the title by one point. This year, Hamilton led Massa by seven, but a lucky fifth helped the Brit pip the Brazilian, again by a lone point. The British driver, who was named after the American sprinter Carl Lewis, has always talked about his destiny. Those who knew him from an early age understood that here was a young man with an almost ethereal belief in his own ability. At the age of ten, he approached McLaren team principal, Ron Dennis, at an awards ceremony and told him that one day he wanted to race for McLaren. Three years later, he was signed by McLaren and MercedesBenz to their Young Driver Support Programme. After winning the British Formula Renault, European Formula Three and GP2 championships he became a McLaren F1 driver for 2007, making his Formula One debut. Lewis was destined to be a champion. According to Michael Schumacher, at just 16, Lewis already had “the right racing mentality”. In fact, after seeing him on a go-kart track at the age of 13, a man from Peterborough staked £100 on a 500-1 shot that Hamilton would win the championship by his 25th birthday. The unnamed punter collected £125,000 from Ladbrokes; the company’s largest single motor sport payout.

Lewis’s successful karting career showed his winning mentality and commitment to working hard, even at such a young age. Through his dedication and the support of his family Lewis balanced his karting career with the life of any other young boy where school and playing out formed a large part of his young life. After a year of learning in Formula Renault, he won the 2003 British Formula Renault championship with 10 victories and 11 pole positions. After a year of learning in the F3 Euroseries, he won that series in 2005 with 15 victories and 13 pole positions. Lewis did not disappoint in his first year in F1 either. In fact, he finished third in his first race and then proceeded to smash the 40-yearold rookie record of two consecutive podiums at the start of a season. Lewis scored nine podiums in his first nine races and he won two of those races. On the day of his victory, Hamilton initially struggled to comprehend the scale of his achievement but paid tribute to his McLaren team: “This is for you and my family”. He added: “It’s pretty much impossible to put into words. It’s been such a long journey – all the sacrifices we’ve made, I’m so thrilled to do this for everyone. It was one of the toughest races of my life.” The young man from Stevenage now joins the pantheon of F1 British greats, among them Sir Stirling Moss, Graham Hill, Jackie Stewart, James Hunt and Nigel Mansell. When asked about his future Hamilton said: “Well, I won’t have number 22 on my car next year, I’ll have the number one, and that’s the coolest thing ever. And I want to have an even stronger season next year: I want to train hard over the winter; I really want to be at the peak of my fitness when we turn up in Australia next year. You learn from your mistakes and I want to continue to grow as a driver. I would like to have the most complete season of my career next year.” It is this determination which has led to his success through the ranks culminating in his present day Formula One career. Lewis remains the only teenager ever to be signed by a Formula One team at such an early age.

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FORMULA ONE - A HISTORY

by Véronique De Freitas

The modern era of Formula One Grand Prix racing began in 1950. The roots of F1 begin far earlier: tracing to the pioneering road races in France in the 1890s, through the Edwardian era, the bleak twenties, the German domination of the 1930s and the early post-war years of Italian supremacy. Pioneers of Racing Competitive motor racing began very soon after the invention of the first successful petrol-driven car. Although the internal combustion engine had been invented in Germany and it was Britain that had been leading the industrial revolution, both countries were initially hostile towards the motorcar. So it fell to France to lead the way in the creation of motor sport. The first motorcar ‘reliability’ trial was organised by the French newspaper Le Velocipede in 1887. The event involved a short run from Paris to Versailles. Unfortunately, only one competitor showed up and the event had to be abandoned. The first organised event was actually a Reliability Trial run from Paris to Rouen in 1894 over a distance of 126 km. It was organised by a newspaper, Le Petite Journal, and the winning ‘horseless carriage’ had to be safe, easily controllable and reasonably economical to run. Twenty-one entries left Paris on 22nd of July, the first home was Count de Dion in a steam driven De Dion tractor. Unfortunately for De Dion, the jury decided that his car was not a practical road vehicle and instead awarded the prize jointly to the next two leading cars, a Peugeot and a Panhard-Levassor. The winning average speed was an exhilarating 17km/ h. Many town races were run in the following years including Paris to Bordeaux and back. Emille Levassor won the 1895 event, a far more organised race than its predecessors with rules and formulae that would be recognisable to a contempory audience. Driving a two-cylinder, four-bhp Panhard-Levassor he drove 48 hours

48 minutes virtually non-stop. Because his car only had two seats instead of the required four he was denied the prize of 31,000 francs, yet it is his statue that still overlooks the finishing line at the Porte Maillot in Paris. Another interesting entrant in this race was the Peugeot of André Michelin which used pneumatic tires. Typically wheels used on other cars were either iron or solid rubber. At first the “air tyre” was ridiculed as impractical and indeed Michelin’s car suffered from numerous flats due to the poor condition of the roads at the turn of the century. Panhard would dominate racing until the end of the century. The following years saw an ever increasing search for speed and the easiest path was to increase engine size. Soon seven and eight litre engines were common place and even a 16 litre engine was produced. Developments in chassis design, brakes and tires did not maintain pace but in 1901 that changed with the introduction of the 35 h.p Mercedes. It was the first sports-racing car which featured a four-cylinder engine with mechanical valves, a “honeycomb” radiator, a steel chassis, pneumatic tyres and a magneto ignition. After solving some early reliability problems and coupled with the increase of engine capacity to nine litres producing 60 h.p, the car became a consistent race winner. Each of the leading manufacturers contributed advancements to automobile design. Renault produced a car with shaft drive and a live rear axle. In 1900 Gordon Bennett, the owner of the New York Herald, established a series of races bearing his name. Each nation had a team of three cars chosen by each national automobile club. In 1902 Mors introduced spring dampers which resulted in dramatically improved road-holding. With the cars approaching speeds of 100 mph the races, held on open roads, resulted in several fatal accidents some of which included spectators. The Automobile Club de France, which was formed in 1895, decided after many disagreements over regulations to hold their own races.

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In 1906 The French held the very first Grand Prix for manufacturers over a 64-mile course near Le Mans. Of the 32 cars that started the race, 11 remained after 12 laps split over two days. The winner was Hungarian Ferenc Szisz, driving a 90hp Renault. His Renault utilised detachable rims created by Michelin which enabled him to change tyres in two to three minutes instead of the normal 15 minutes. Another important event that year was the inaugural Targa Florio. Organised by the wealthy Sicilian Vicenzo Floria, the race covered three laps of 148.832 km over mountain roads unchanged since the Punic Wars in 1907. The Germans held their own race, the Kaiserpreis, for touring cars of under eight litres and weighing less than 1165 kg. The race was won by Nazzaro in a Fiat. After dominating racing until 1906, France was supplanted by Alfa of Italy and Mercedes of Germany. The defining race of the pre WW1 era was the ACF Grand Prix of 1914. The race was held on a 36.63 km circuit near Lyons and would last 20 laps. The formula for that year restricted engine capacity to 4500cc and weight to 1100kg. Peugeot, determined to return France to the front ranks of motor sport, entered three cars that featured four-wheel brakes. The main challenge for France was the Germans, led by five Mercedes. With the political tensions in Europe coming to a head, the race could not escape from having political overtones. Max Sailor, a Mercedes director and race car driver led from the start with the Peugeot of Georges Boillot in second. The leading Mercedes developed engine trouble and on the sixth lap the Peugeot took the lead. The French crowd erupted into patriotic demonstrations. The order was now Peugeot, the Mercedes of Lautenschlager, another Peugeot and the Mercedes of Wagner. It was now Wagner’s turn to make a charge and on the 11th lap he forced his way into second. The second Peugeot, driven by Goux, began to overheat and was destined to retire. This left the Peugeot of Boillot still ahead of the oncoming Germans. The 15th lap had now been completed with the Peugeot two minutes and 28 seconds ahead of the Mercedes driven by Wagner. After running a conservative race in the early laps Lautenschlager was now poised to begin his march. Passing his teammate he began to close the gap on the leading Peugeot. Boillot drove for all he was worth but nothing could stop the Mercedes from taking the lead. The Peugeot, not able to withstand the strain, broke a valve and retired. Mercedes now owned the first three places and so finished with Lautenschlager claiming his second ACF Grand Prix title. The sullen crowd responded with only a smattering of applause while the Mercedes pits erupted in joy. On this bitter note for France, racing stopped on the European continent. Several leading drivers without a European outlet crossed the Atlantic and entered the Vanderbilt Cup, Indianapolis and the American Grand Prize. The rise of purpose built racing circuits Racing on public roads was illegal in England and British drivers had to resort to racing in Ireland or the continent. The British motor industry suffered as a consequence. In response to this, a group of wealthy enthusiasts led by Hugh F. Locke-King planned a race track to be built on his property in Surrey, called Brooklands. In 1907 an oval circuit with banked corners was built. Handicap races were held which became as much a social event as an automobile race. In fact the races were organised more like horse races, as drivers had to wear certain colours instead of having numbers on their cars. Bookmakers would organise wagers Brooklands did have some fantastic racing and served as a site for many speed record attempts. Racing in Europe continued on closed public roads but these were not profitable as it was impossible to charge an entrance fee, besides the races were very dangerous due to lack of crowd control. The 1920s saw the advent of shorter, specially built circuits throughout Europe. In 1922 the Italian Grand Prix was held at one of these new tracks, the Autodromo Monza. The Autodromo consisted of a 3.4 mile road course and a 2.8 mile banked oval. For its inaugural race 100,000 spectators poured through its gates. The event became a Fiat parade when many of the other manufacturers pulled out. The French Grand Prix held later that year, on closed roads near Strasbourg, was again dominated by Fiat.

1925 saw a number of developments. New road racing circuits were being built throughout Europe including Miramas near Marseilles and Spa-Francorchamps in Belgium. Riding mechanics were banned as they had been in America. The first World Championship was organised and included the French, Italian and Belgian Grand Prix and the Indianapolis 500. This championship was between manufacturers rather than drivers. Alfa Romeo won that inaugural year and celebrated the victory by incorporating a laurel wreath into its badge. Unfortunately, this also marked the high point for Grand Prix racing until the next decade. Because of escalating costs and few perceived benefits, most of the major manufacturers decided to abandon their factory racing efforts. World Championship pioneers In 1950 a World Championship for drivers was introduced. The championship would be decided based on the results of seven races: the British, Swiss, Monaco, Belgium, French and Italian Grand Prix and the Indianapolis 500. The latter was included in the hope that this would promote Grand Prix racing in America but in reality the effects were minimal. Alfa Romeo returned to the contest with a team made up of pre-war drivers, Giuseppe Farina, Luigi Fagioli and Juan-Manuel Fangio. These drivers, except for Fangio, were beyond their peak years and depended on their vast experience against younger rivals. Their main opposition came from Ferrari but the cars from Maranello lacked reliability and the championship would be decided between the three Alfa drivers. The final round at Monza would crown the first World Champion. World Championship motor racing began at Silverstone in May of 1950 in the presence of the British Royal family. From a total of 21 cars on the grid, Farina took the first ever pole and eventually won the race, followed by Fagioli and local hero Reg Parnell. Monaco was next on the calendar and Farina fared badly causing a nine car pile-up which also removed Fagioli from the race. Fangio avoided the tangle and went on to secure his first win in the championship series. Monaco was also Ferrari’s first competition of the season and Alberto Ascari scored a notable second place, and heralded the potential of the Prancing Horse. The Swiss Grand Prix came next and was staged at the rather tricky Bremgarten circuit. That race resulted in a one-two for Alfa Romeo from Farina and Fagioli as Fangio suffered from mechanical problems along with the three Ferraris. At Belgium’s Spa-Francorchamps circuit Fangio scored his second win of the year narrowly beating Fagioli to the line, but not before the slow but steady Talbot of Raymond Sommer had run at the front for several laps. The first ever world title was finally decided at Monza. Before the race Fangio had 26 points over Fagioli’s 24 and Farina’s 22. The title was finally settled when Fangio retired with a busted gearbox which handed the race, and the title, to Farina. The Ferrari team had spent much of the year working on a new engine which had fared well in several non-championship races. At Monza Ascari scored a second place in new Ferrari 375 which suggested that in the following year Alfa Romeo would finally face a challenge worthy of them. Though they had lost the championship, Ferrari was gaining strength and Alfa aware of this growing threat and unable to finance a proper defence of their title for next season chose to withdraw at the end of the year. Few knew then that this would mark the end of this proud manufacturer’s involvement in Grand Prix racing except for some half-hearted attempts in the 80s. In 1953, Mike Hawthorn beat legendary Argentinian Juan Manuel Fangio in the French Grand Prix at Reims and became the first Briton to win a World Championship. Followed a glorious line of achievements by great British racing drivers including Damon Hill (who beat Schumacher to the championship in 1996) and finally Lewis Hamilton’s dramatic win in this year’s Formula One world championship.

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British Racing Scene

The later years of Formula One have been defined by only a handful of daredevil heroes with British legends including Jackie Stewart, Damon Hill and Lewis Hamilton, all of who are considered to be the heavyweight champions of the racetrack

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GRAHAM HILL, HIS WIFE AND SIX YEAR OLD DAMON HILL

“Some people might think I got here because I had a sweet smile and a famous name. Well it wasn’t like that” - DAMON HILL 57

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DAMON HILL AND HIS WIFE GEORGIE

SIR STIRLING MOSS

JAMES HUNT AND HIS WIFE

GRAHAM HILL

DAMON HILL AND JACKIE STEWART

JACKIE STEWART

DAMON HILL LEARNING THE CIRCUIT

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“There are two things no man will admit he cannot do well: drive and make love” - SIR STIRLING MOSS 59

“It was said I removed the romance from the sport, that the safety measures took away the swashbuckling spectacular that had been… But not many of these critics had ever crashed at 150 miles an hour” - JACKIE STEWART 61

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“I said ‘Hello Mr. Dennis, I’m Lewis Hamilton and one day I’d like to race for your team’. I asked him for his autograph and his phone number. He put them in my book and also wrote ‘Call me in nine years’” - LEWIS HAMILTON 63

FASHION

CHECKING BACK

by AMY TIPPER-HALE

From genteel roots to chav emblem, Burberry has overcome fashion homicide to retain its status as one of the world’s top luxury brands Our very own leafy land of London, well Richmond-upon-Thames, saw the British likes of Lily Donaldson, Eden Clarke, Alexina Graham and Richard Wyndham; musicians George Craig and Sam Beeton; actor Alex Pettyfer; and photographer Emily Hope posing for the new Burberry advertising campaign. The series of colour images, shot by Mario Testino, features outerwear, newly expanded categories of sport and denim, and accessories including this season’s new Gardener Bag. The distinctive tartan or haymarket check first used in 1924 has been re-imagined into a black and white check inspired by the label’s Beat fragrances. Once again, the tasteful innovations of design director Christopher Bailey are behind this year’s spring/summer campaign. The British brand’s new collection and seductive advertising campaign, hinting at carefree anglocentric summer days, may well put Burberry ahead of its competitors in the ensuing economic slump. The company did well last year; its profits at the end of the six month start of 2008 (ending in September) were up three percent. Angela Ahrendts, the chief executive officer of Burberry who, in her first full year working for the brand, has boosted profits by 23 per cent, said: “I am pleased with Burberry’s performance in the first half of the year

against the background of an increasingly challenging external environment”. Despite good news at the beginning of last year, the company has since realised that trading has become increasingly difficult since the start of the third quarter, particularly in the US and Spain due to low consumer confidence in the current economic climate. The Burberry label is no stranger to the ups and downs of cultural climate. At its beginning, the label had been restricted to the older generation of Britain in the swinging 60s when the youth of the day were uninterested in what they perceived to be an ‘old’ label that spoke of a repellent British hierarchy and conservatism associated with Queen and country. The ‘Cool Britannia’ era brought Burberry back into the fashion game with bands, designers and consumers desperate to celebrate all things British. The designs became edgier and the brand pursued a younger (and now fairly wealthy) consumer group. A great high for Burberry after years of being relegated to the back of the hunting wardrobe, it was swiftly followed by a new low as the brand became all too popular with the sort of people that would have had creator Thomas Burberry turning over in his grave.

FASHION

The years of the chav were not kind on Burberry. The streets of London were flooded with counterfeit Burberry check. Football hooligans adopted the genteel label as their uniform of war as they pounded down the goalend terrace, hurling racial abuse and flat beer. Burberry was by no means the only label to be soiled by their association with football hooligans; as the police cracked down on anti-social behaviour at matches, the ‘firms’ started wearing expensive European labels to escape notice. Among those almost ruined by this ‘fashion suicide’ were previously beloved brands such as Aquascutum, Lacoste, Ralph Lauren, Le Coq Sportif and Fred Perry. One brand that arguably never recovered is Italian designed Stone Island. None of these brands, however, had to suffer the same abject humiliation as Burberry who featured in one of the biggest fashion faux-pas known to the British Isles: Daniella Westbrook and baby covered head to toe in Burberry check. The fashionistas predicted the death of the brand. “It was associated with people who did bad stuff, who went wild on the terraces,” said cultural columnist

Peter York, adding: “Quite a lot of people thought that Burberry would be worn by the person who mugged them.” The brand has since made an incredible turnaround. It now remains one of the top five luxury goods brands in the world. Most credit the transformation with the recruitment of Rose Marie Bravo who moved from Saks Fifth Avenue to become chief executive in 1997 at a time when major department stores such as Harvey Nichols and Selfridges refused to stock the brand. In 2001 Christopher Bailey was brought on as Creative Director and Burberry removed a large percentage of the check appearing on their clothing down to only five percent. Kate Moss became the face (and body) of the brand soon after. Bravo understood the struggles that Burberry faced: “It’s a thin line between being commercial and aesthetic, saleable yet refined.” Burberry has since found the perfect balance, and we’re expecting another successful year for Britain’s much-loved brand.

FASHION

Black back in the Union Jack

by AMY TIPPER-HALE

Catwalks and covers are notoriously white but is that set to change with Obama bringing back black in such a big way? 66

FASHION

Time again for the International Fashion Holiday and this year I’m more intrigued than ever. So much excitement is being generated; what will the dour credit crunch bring to the latest collections – will we be decadent and outrageous with our haute couture or will we all be wearing henna sack mini-dresses? More importantly, what will be this year’s colour on the catwalk? I don’t mean what Marc Jacob comes up with in spandex, but what influence Obama’s election will have on the fashion world en masse. His colour has little to do with his policies or likeability, but there’s no mistaking that America (and thus New York, London and Paris – maybe not so much Milan) needs to wake up to the fact that the white-hogged catwalks of the last couple of decades simply aren’t good enough. Since the 80s, the fashion world has been in an ethnic slump; we all loved the first black models to grace magazine covers. We all loved Grace Jones, Pat Cleveland, Beverly Johnson and Naomi Campbell as we loved all the sirens that herald a new era of multiculturalism and a titillating two-fingers-up to the old-guard imperialists. For a while the black model was as popular as shoulder-pads, but you take a look at your coffee table style-bibles and, dismissing most of those swathed in “ethnic” jewellery and ignoring the rainbow effect of Benetton and Gap ads, you’ll find you’ve landed in the middle of a BNP pamphlet. There’s nothing quite like a dig at the fashion industry, and we’ve (unjustly) accused them of creating anorexics, killing under-paid workers in China (that one’s sadly fairly accurate, but don’t blame the industry – blame those who exploit it) and now they get knockings for racism.

God Bless America then, for voting in a black man. If this doesn’t turn the fashion industry around, I don’t know what will. Already we’ve seen the crash of American label J. Crew’s website because Obama’s kids turned up at the inauguration wearing their coats, and I’ve heard nothing but praise for the cheerfully and cheaply chic Michelle Obama, who’s channelling Jackie O with thrifty intentions. Will this timely reminder of African-American fashion power have an impact on this season’s catwalks and future representation? There will be a few problems to overcome. Firstly, modelling agencies don’t like to use their ‘big’ name black models for specifically ‘black’ magazines, so it’s the big names at the top who’ll be making all the decisions. It’s also the models themselves who are weary of ‘black’ exposure. International model Iman has been quoted as saying, “I didn’t want to be labelled a black model when I started, but now I do celebrate it and I see the difference.” Who can blame them when it’s obvious that the attitude to multiracial models is so circumspect? Naomi Campbell has raged against the injustices she’s faced as a black model: “Do I still want to be on the cover of British Vogue? Absolutely I do. It’s not because I don’t sell, because I do sell – more than many of my white counterparts.” But I feel Naomi’s words must be taken with a pinch of salt – she’s notoriously difficult and not, perhaps, the image Vogue wants to present after she’s

God Bless America then, for voting in a black man. If this doesn’t turn the fashion industry around, I don’t know what will

There are lots of conspiracies. Some blame it all on Anna Wintour, claiming that she’s leading a one-man promotion of racism and Hermes handbags. They also like to blame Prada who like skinny white things on their catwalks; their 2008 runway show had no black models whatsoever, which I think we’ll all agree is totally inexcusable, but I don’t think they can be blamed with the whole fashion industry’s laissez faire attitude toward ethnic minorities.

What I don’t understand is that the average black women is a big spender (say the people whose job it is to monitor our spending), creating a revenue of about five billion a year spent on consumer products. This explains why black models are used fairly frequently in advertising, but not so much (or hardly ever) when it comes to fashion editorials. Why? Well, apparently white women won’t buy a magazine with a black woman on the cover. Who are these strange “white women”? I find it highly unlikely that the slaves to fashion, who’ll wear eight inch platforms and a day-glo bikini in January because Vogue said so, would object (even subconsciously) to a black cover model. Phrases like “readership expectations” are banded around when it comes to the lack of black representation, but quite frankly if you’re living in a cosmopolitan city, “expectations” would include some representation of the world in which we’re living.

been in court yet again for allegations of brutality and abuse.

We know Tom Ford is a fan of black models – it was he who was responsible for Liya Kebede getting the Gucci contract in 2000, and there are a few designers out there that insist on beauty: black, white and anything in between. We’re still only getting a handful of black models that are making them to the top – in fact I think I can name most, if not all of them. If we compare continents of white and black (or ethnic) populations, it’s not as if there’s more white-skinned to choose from. We face another problem, in the 2008 April Vogue they put LeBron James on the cover with Gisele. What an uproar. Apparently LeBron looked “savage” and “like King Kong” so clearly we’ve got to be a bit careful what’s done with black representation. Though to be fair, LeBron is a pretty imposing looking guy and he’s a big basketball player – did it matter if he looked a bit ferocious? It wasn’t the greatest cover I’ve ever seen, but I don’t think that’s anything to do with an underlying racism in corporate America. I think this year’s elections have proved that at least. Whatever has caused the whitewash of African-Americans in the fashion industry it’s about to change. I for one will be studying the catwalks for fair representation. That I feel I need to even consider doing something so infuriatingly PC annoys me – it shouldn’t be an issue. In 2010 I hope not to recognise any of the black, Asian or Hispanic models that parade themselves before the cameras and critics: the fashion world needs new blood.

PROFILE

INTRODUCING

Magnus Ekstrøm

Magnus Ekstrøm (pictured left) is a Copenhagen based photographer. At the age of 29 he is already working with big commercial campaigns and lucrative clientele. He has worked with a wide range of international clients including Puma, Samsung, MasterCard, Sanex, WWF, M&Ms, Arena, ELLE and more. He’s also provided ANGLOMANIA magazine with great shots of Vidic (this month’s front cover) and Anelka. Magnus’s biggest sport idol is the Danish footballer Michael Laudrup, but he claims that Lionel Messi from Barcelona comes in close second. Barcelona is his all time favorite team. Magnus finds inspiration in things surrounding him: looking at art, other photographers’ and designers’ work, going out, socialising a bit and having friends in different businesses. Being a busy photographer and a father of three little children doesn’t leave him room to do much more. Magnus possesses an innate understanding of image versus elegance; a trademark of his photographic style. He has a real eye for simplistic beauty and a unique understanding of forms and postures. He works with the mantra ‘Be nice to people on your way up because you will most likely meet them again on your way down’. On working with his subjects or clients, Magnus claims that “people who lose their temper or freak out show a total lack of control – it’s embarrassing. You’ll never see me doing that. It’s very important for me, either for fashion or commercial work, that the people working with me have a pleasant experience. When that is said, I always expect that people always come well prepared and work their best, otherwise I’d rather have them leave the set.” www.ibsen-co.com

PROFILE

all images by MAGNUS EKSTRøM

www.ibsen-co.com

all images by MAGNUS EKSTRøM www.ibsen-co.com

pale rider by MAGNUS EKSTRĂ¸M

shirt: Eton denim jacket: Whyred

THIS PAGE shirt: Velour vest: J. Lindeberg silver blazer: René Gurskov jeans: Acne cap: stylist’s own OPPOSITE PAGE denim shirt: Hope blazer: Blueblood trousers: Whyred socks: Richard James shoes, Whyred hats: stylist’s own

THIS PAGE flowery shirt: Eton denim jacket: Marlboro Classics jeans: Won Hundred OPPOSITE PAGE shirt: Whyred denim shirt: Levi’s denim vest: Marlboro Classics jeans: René Gurskov boots: Hope hat: stylist’s own

THIS PAGE sweater: Whyred blazer: Whyred jeans: The Local Firm OPPOSITE PAGE turtleneck: J. Lindeberg sweater: Velour jeans: The Local Firm photos: Magnus Ekstrøm styling: Christian Schleisner/ Unique Look hair and grooming: Zenia Jæger/ Unique Look model: Lasse P/ Unique photographer’s assistant: Anders Frauerby stylist’s assistant: My Ringsted retouch: Nurali Kushkov

épée photography: JOHN DAVIS

It’s always been regarded as a gentleman’s game, but in truth mankind has, since the dawn of time, loved nothing better than wielding weaponry of any sort in an adversary’s field of vision. Fencing was taught back as late as the 12th century where the nobility of the era had advanced from using any bludgeoning weapon they could get their hands on and instead developed a more feline and conservative method of attack - both for amusement and protection. The sport had been forbidden in England and France for most of the Medieval period, although records show that fencing schools were being kept open illegally in both countries. After the 1500s it became socially and legally acceptable to carry a sword about your person, learn fencing and generally be regarded as a true gentleman with the necessary requirement of being ‘a good egg’ when it came to combat. During the 18th and early 19th century dueling became very popular with gentlemen who needed to procure what was termed “satisfaction” from some dastardly offender: off would come the glove and the challenger’s “second” would choose the battle destination - far from prying eyes and usually at dawn. Only true gentlemen were admitted to duel as only gentlemen were considered to have honor - the key ingredient in a qualified duel. If a gentleman was insulted by a person of lower class the perpetrator would be beaten with a cane, whip or crop til he learnt some manners - or if the gentleman believed it all too beneath him, a servant would be employed to do the job for him. Unsurprisingly, the dueling practice went into decline after the relentless bloodshed of WW1. Fencing continued only as a sport with tournaments and championships and has continued to enjoy a fairly high-profile popularity ever since. Equipment has advanced: during the 1930s the épée (a heavy thrust fencing weapon) was used with electrical scoring apparatus, replacing side judges and ensuring far more accurate wins. Since 1896 fencing has become an Olympic sport, with wheelchair fencing in the paralympic games also. A popularity in the US has given birth to an American Fencing League and a United States Fencing Association. A school in Jefferson has recently offered a $10,000 fencing scholarship to ten elementary students as part of the Mayor’s Healthy Hometown initiative. special thanks to: The Village Underground www.villageunderground.co.uk Leon Paul Equipment www.leonpaul.com

black run performance tank: STELLA MCCARTNEY FOR ADIDAS white and silver leather jacket: AMINAKA WILMONT black leggings: AMERICAN APPAREL black lace up ankle boot: NINE WEST 82 mask and sword: LEON PAUL

“Fencing is a game of subtlety, and bluff can be met with counter-bluff” - Charles L. de Beaumont 84

THIS PAGE black lace corset: KAREN MILLEN black mesh top: BETTY JACKSON black jacket with metal and hair detail: GEMMA SLACK black running trousers: STELLA MCCARTNEY FOR ADIDAS black boots: PIED A TERRE sword: LEON PAUL OPPOSITE PAGE white shirt: BORA AKSU cream jacket with lace embroidery: MODERNIST cream structured skirt: MODERNIST white leggings: AMERICAN APPAREL white trainers: STELLA MCCARTNEY FOR ADIDAS sword: LEON PAUL

THIS PAGE white zip-up leggings: AMERICAN APPAREL white run performance tank: STELLA MCCARTNEY FOR ADIDAS white jacket: DIANE VON FURSTENBERG black leather lace up ankle boots: NINE WEST white glove and sword: LEON PAUL OPPOSITE PAGE black mesh trousers: BETTY JACKSON black leather jacket with frill detail: DIANE VON FURSTENBERG black lace corset: KAREN MILLEN black and gold bikini top: AMERICAN APPAREL black suede lace up shoes: NINE WEST sword: LEON PAUL 86

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The essence of fencing is to give, but by no means to receiveâ&#x20AC;? - Moliere

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Hold your sword as if you were holding a bird in your hand: not too lightly to prevent his escape and not too tightly to prevent him chokingâ&#x20AC;? - Justin LafaugerI 88

THIS PAGE white coat: VERSACE black retro bra: KAREN MILLEN white breeches: LEON PAUL white bow leather belt: SARA BERMAN black leather shoes: VERSACE sword and mask: LEON PAUL OPPOSITE PAGE white classic shirt: KAREN MILLEN black jacket: DIANE VON FURSTENBERG black trousers: DIANE VON FURSTENBERG black trainers: STELLA MCCARTNEY FOR ADIDAS black belt: MODERNIST white glove and sword: LEON PAUL

photographer: John Davis www.johndavisphoto.com stylist: Biki John makeup and hair: Hannah E Dolan using M.A.C photographer’s assistants: Dave Foster & Daniel Smith stylist’s assistants: 89 Annelie Brottare & Amy Simpson

PARALLEL

LINES by Marcelo Benfield 90

blue dress: BERNARD CHANDRAN blue satin platform stilettos: PRICELESS

black sheer shirt with bow detail: BORA AKSU black lace shorts: SPIJKERS EN SPIJKERS black skinny belt: MODERNIST gold metallic ankle boots: TED BAKER

purple cotton jacket: BORA AKSU purple bra: SPIJKERS EN SPIJKERS silver sequin trousers: KRISTIAN AADNEVIK black fringe ruffle belt with chain detail: BRYCE Dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ANICE AIME purple satin stilettos with bow: KATE KUBA

gold faux animal skin corset: INSINUATE black silk shorts: BERNARD CHANDRAN black silk satin cuff: BRYCE Dâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ANICE AIME 94 KATE KUBA black patent stiletto courts:

black sequins waistcoat: ASHISH black bra: INSINUATE black lycra jumper: shorts: BETTY john JACKSON smedley black stiletto boots with knit ribbon lace john ups: KATE KUBA T-shirt: smedley

multicoloured striped bustier dress: KRISTIAN AADNEVIK blue platform stilettos: PRICELESS photographer: Marcelo Benfield www.marcelobenfield.com stylist: Biki John www.bikijohn.com hair stylist: Tomi using Bumble & Bumble makeup: Ken Nakano using Estee Lauder model: Margo Bushueva @ Premier photographerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s assistants: Fernanda Fernandez and Joanna Banach stylistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s assistant: Amy Simpson

FASHION

‘ME’ BY RANKIN

words: CLEO DAVIS

Regardless of how modest or camera shy you might be, it is not every day you get the chance to be professionally snapped by a photographer with a portfolio consisting of portraits of the Queen, Kate Moss, Tony Blair… oh, and me. On a soggy Monday afternoon in east London, I found myself being transformed from soggy stylist at Anglomania magazine to Rankin’s Vogue-polished venture.

each shot will take a matter of 15 minutes, from the click of the shutter to the hanging.

As I am not so fond of photos of myself, I was pleased to find my final portrait pleasing on the eye. I was asked if I would consider hanging it in my house. My response: “Yes, but in the toilet though.”

“How do I qualify?” I hear you squeal. Ladies, men and the camera shy over the age of 13 will get the Rankin-rating by showing a distinctive style and a sense of British eccentricity and enthusiasm. In other words, if you dress to impress, it’s lights, camera, action all the way darling. To be involved, email your intent and photo to rankin@rankin.co.uk.

My day of fame and photos was a guinea pig assignment for the real deal. Rankin himself is inviting people across the UK to participate in his most ambitious project to date, Rankin Live! He will select 1,000 lucky participants to star in the museum scale exhibition. This large-scale model-for-a-day opportunity means

The portraits produced on the day in August will be hung as part of an everchanging exhibition in Brick Lane’s Truman Brewery and uploaded online to the Rankin Live! website. Each portrait will cost £50 and all profits will go to Oxfam. Deadline for applicants is end of June 2009.

FASHION

Time Frame

words: AMY TIPPER-HALE

Bags, shoes and sunglasses. These make up the sugary topping of an outfit. They’re beloved because they have no limit: while harem pants require a thin body, accessories only require a body. Sunglasses have always been, and forever will be, unflinchingly cool. Ray-Bans were worn by the daredevil U.S military aviators in 1936, and it’s no wonder the British soldiers were embittered by American GIs – there’s not a woman out there who’ll turn away a man in uniform and aviators. Just look at Top Gun. Since the 60s, sunglasses have enjoyed mass popularity. The Onassis glasses of the 1960s, commonly known as “Jackie Os”, were oversized and everywhere – one of the many looks America’s most fashion-forward Lady of State stamped on the pages of Vogue. We’ve been enjoying a fashion rewind for the last four years, since we decided that, actually, big shades hide hangovers, make us look semi-celebrity and can be ridiculously, gloriously bling. There are some sunglasses that have died with their icons, and some that have come around again and again. The Teashades made immortal by John Lennon (psychedelic art wire-rim sunglasses) and popularised by the 1960s drug counterculture seem, thankfully, to be buried with the archives. Even if they were worn by Mick Jagger, they never stated sex the same way Wayfarers did.

Wayfarers were around in the 1950s and 60s. They graced the screens and hearts of Hollywood, worn by James Dean, Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Marilyn Monroe and in a hallowed moment with Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Wayfarers are one of the most enduring fashion icons of the 20th Century, surviving (despite a few slumps in the 70s) through most fashion whims. Today we have a problem: how to be an original when every label across the globe churns out the same style but with a different logo? There’s one place for originals. The Eye Company in Wardour Street, Soho, sells original frames from throughout the decades in both sunglasses and optical lenses. With buyers all over the world, it picks up frames that have remained unused since their birth and ships them back to Eye Company owner, Steenie. If you fancy original Ferrari-built frames from the 80s, but they don’t suit you in the slightest, get a replica that does. These are the joys of being in the hands of someone who’s dedicated to the beauty and style of frames, but also the know-how of original frame building. It’s hardly Specsavers. Eye Company doesn’t sell the big fashion brands – its collection is far more elusive. It offers a horde of frames from every era and collections by the most accomplished frame designers. Don’t fear the quick sell either; Steenie quite rightly prides himself in suiting a frame to every face – think Harry Potter picking out his very own wand and you’ll get the idea.

nuance

by ISHAY BOTBOL

1989 original glasses £330: BUGATTI 100 BADALA waistcoat: £poa ANDREEA

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1982 original vintage tortoiseshell sunglasses: £270 FERRARI dress: £700 IOANNIS DIMITROUSIS

1985 original vintage sunglasses: £290 BOEING CARRERA dress: £135 HOUSE OF BOING

batmask sunglasses: £165 LUELLA - LINDA FARROW blouse: £185 SAMANTHA COLE LONDON

1982 art deco original vintage sunglasses: £350 ARLEQUIN polkadot blouse: £185 SAMANTHA COLE

sunglasses: £165 MATTHEW WILLIAMSON - LINDA FARROW

(from left to right) sunglasses: £poa BERNHARD WILLHELM - LINDA FARROW PROJECTS jacket: £poa SUPHANUT SUWANSANYA sunglasses: £poa RODARTE - LINDA FARROW dress: £300 SAFFRON KNIGHTINGER LONDON

photographer: Ishay Botbol www.ishaybotbol.com stylist: Lauraine Bailey www.laurainebaileystyling makeup: Niedian Biggs hair: Shinya Fukamy models: Dasha from Storm London Nicola Caton from select London

BEAUTY

Time for a Retouch Invest in a luxury foundation that offers both protection and perfection

by NIEDIAN BIGGS

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BEAUTY

Laura Mercier Tinted Foundation Laura Mercier Tinted Foundation is a face tint that provides light coverage and a natural-looking finish. It contains antiirritants to help soothe sensitive skin. Blend evenly over the face with a sponge, brush or fingertips – just make sure you blend well. With the added benefit of an SPF20, the foundation erases the need for a greasy sunscreen layer while still protecting your skin from harmful UV Rays. A great foundation for sensitive skin types too. I love this as a natural day wear product, as it helps to even out dull winter skin. £32 Available at Liberty and Harrods London

Laura Mercier Foundation Primer The key rule is that primers should be applied to cleansed skin before moisturising (just to clear up any confusion). Laura Mercier Primer was created in 2005 and has taken the beauty world by storm. It gives you healthy looking skin and helps to reduce the appearance of visible pores. With vitamins A, C, E which are all full of antioxidants to help fight the ageing process, Laura Mercier Primer is an amazing innovation to help skin look its best, plus it holds your foundation on for up to an impressive eight hours. £27 Available at Liberty and Harrods Beauty halls London OR For flawless looking skin apply Laura Mercier Face Primer before moisturiser. It’s a great way to hold your makeup on for longer and brightens the skin as well as protecting it with the SPF20 mentioned above.

Chanel Matte Lumière Foundation Compact Chanel Lumière Foundation gives sheer coverage that is buildable. The creamy formula is easy to blend and glides luxuriously onto the skin. Keep in mind that it’s best to use a foundation brush to apply this product. Lumière also has conditioning agents to help the skin look its best. Most foundations now contain anti-irritants to soothe the skin and soften fine lines – this is one of them.

Armani Armani is a full coverage foundation. It will effectively cover all unwanted discolouration, blemishes and marks in a clever light-weight formula packed full of pigment so all can achieve flawless skin. You only need a relatively small amount of this foundation to get amazing coverage. What I love most about this foundation is that it lasts for hours without the need for re-touching. Designer Foundation can sculpt your cheekbones and keep your skin hydrated this winter. £35 Available in a wide range of shades

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HEAVY METAL by STELIANOUR SANI

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photographer: Stelianour Sani www.stelianoursani.com makeup: Samantha Chapman using illamasqua

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UK FOCUS

Notting Thrill

From dark and dangerous to chic and cliques, Notting Hill has risen to become one of Londonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s trendiest hangouts by Charlotte Jones

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UK FOCUS

There is a great deal more to Notting Hill than the romantic comedy with which it shares its name would have you believe. There are many investment bankers, yummy mummies and celebrities who take refuge from the city behind the wrought-iron railings and traditional white staccato-fronted houses for which the area is now famed. Certainly, the Travel Bookshop on Blenheim Crescent, which influenced the film, still stands proud and on Saturday mornings it plays host to the flocks of tourists eagerly searching for that blue door prior to scouring Portobello Market for antiques. However, while the area has enjoyed enormous highs, as it currently does, it has also experienced severe lows. Until the late twentieth century the area found it hard to shake off its negative image. Little changed in the hamlet of Notting Hill from the Saxons settling in the area circa 700 AD when the gate entrance to London was a notorious crime spot. Its reputation worsened during the industrialisation of the 19th century when the area was popularly considered darker, dirtier and more dangerous than the poorly-lit slums of the East End. However, economic circumstances were improving, albeit slowly. Unfortunately, this resulted in Notting Hill gaining the rather unflattering and rather comical nickname of Potteries and Piggeries and subsequently being famed for the failed Hippodrome racecourse. Nevertheless, upper-middle class families began to move into the area, generally attracted by the lack of public houses and development of Whiteley’s modest business into the then prestigious department store; now a shopping mall. However, the social development of Notting Hill was interrupted by the First and Second World Wars which caused many of the wealthier families to move further out of the city. The neighbourhood soon became known for harbouring serious criminals, notably John Christie who murdered eight women and concealed them in his home on Rillington Place. Christie was arrested for the murders and hung in 1953 at Pentonville Prison. Local residents had to appeal for the name of the road to be changed to Ruston Close because the media interest in the notorious serial killer had sparked regular sightseeing tours. During the 1950s, the houses were split into apartments and many immigrants from the Caribbean settled in the area, often falling foul of racist landlords. The majority of immigrants were forced into slum accommodation such as that run by the notorious Peter Rachman. At the same time, perhaps due to fear or simply spite, elements of white British youth, particularly those referred to as Teddy Boys, were involved in race-related incidents. In August 1958, tensions escalated and culminated with two weeks of race riots, hundreds of arrests but, more positively, paved the way for the Race Relations Act of 1965. The race riots proved a significant turning point for the residents of Notting Hill. They realised that by working together and celebrating their diversity, they could propel themselves and the area out of poverty. Fifty years later, this exemplar of social progress is celebrated annually by the Notting Hill Carnival, originally, in 1959, a march from Powis Square to Tavistock Square organised by Claudia Jones, the civil rights activist. The march evolved into a street party until in 1964 it became known as the West London Carnival. Each August bank holiday, over one million visitors and local residents attend the carnival and enjoy the Caribbean delights of colourful costumes, dancing, music and exotic food. For one weekend a

year, Notting Hill is transformed, able to let down its hair and get a bit messy. The smell of Indian curry emanating from Khans on Westbourne Grove is exchanged for that of spicy meats and barbecues. Come Tuesday morning, the police and metal barriers have disappeared, traffic has resumed to normal and Notting Hill brushes its hair and goes about its business as usual. Still, there is something about the carnival and its history that have transformed this London village into a cosmopolitan, raunchy quarter all year round. It never has and never will be as restrained or typify London in the way that Mayfair or Chelsea do. If anything, it is Kensington’s younger, messier, irresponsible sibling who shows little sign of growing up, where priority is given to a continental brunch on the pavement outside Nicole Farhi’s flagship store on Westbourne Grove over going to work. Notting Hill is half radical tree-hugging hippy and half conservative core. The residents fought to save the Westbourne Grove Church from housing developers but could not resist turning part of it into a snazzy café and art space. Indeed, it could be said the locals of Notting Hill have two passions: food and art. They welcome any new food establishment with open arms, from the traditional, expensive and Michelin-starred The Ledbury to the very small Hummingbird Bakery offering exquisite cupcakes lavished with sweet frostings at very reasonable prices. Food of any origin can be found in Notting Hill, perhaps with the exception of British. Public houses remain scarce and the majority of those which do exist fail to provide British fare, having jumped en masse onto the Thai food bandwagon of the late 1990s. However, a new trend is emerging with the renovation and reopening of The Commander, 47 Hereford Road, which will not only boast a traditional British menu, but also, an oyster bar, as well as an in-house market including a butcher and fishmonger. When the locals are not busy purchasing or consuming food, they are awash with art. Their love of art is of no surprise given that the architecture of the area is highly unusual, featuring misshapen, elliptical buildings, the result of badly planned roads. Yet they not only accept it, they embrace it. There is, of course, no better place in which the Notting Hill Arts Club could have been built. For eleven years the venue has provided an arena for graphic art exhibitions and eclectic music, the Wednesday night Death Disco being most popular and, as of January 2009, demanding no entrance fee for the privilege of this experience. However, the residents’ love of culture is not only for unusual or statementmaking art. There is surely no more beautiful cinema in the whole of London than the Victorian Coronet Cinema; without the residents’ enthusiasm for this classic building, originally a theatre, this two-screen cinema’s survival would no doubt be in jeopardy. Notting Hill locals are a dichotomy in many ways, which is why they often come under the criticism and scrutiny of the media. They love all things foreign, but as the reopening of The Commander proves, yearn for a modicum of British culture; they love the different, the new and the exciting, while at the same time, value the traditional. Paradoxically, Notting Hill’s dark past and troubled former times have resulted in residents embracing diversity in every part of their lives; something that outsiders appear not to understand. With darker times banished forever, the Coronet and residents’ indulgence for gastronomy and culture flourish and Notting Hill will continue to provide a positive example for troubled communities to emulate.

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Generation Y? by Charlotte Jones

Sub-cultures, replete with unique trends, tastes and even lingo, are continually adopted and discarded by Britain’s youth in its attempt to uncover new identities, free from the commercial mainstream

For some time Bob Geldof had a desire to create a book cataloguing tribes throughout the world. While the tribes Geldof is focusing on have been established over hundreds or thousands of years, perhaps it is the remarkable, incumbent British youth he should be documenting. Today’s youth, in the same way as those who came before them, create subcultures in an attempt to rebel against authority in order to form a collective identity to which they can belong. However, what contrasts today’s youth to those which came before, particularly the tribes which have evolved over such a long time period, is their ability to form new sub-sections of society almost overnight. More often than not, and again at an incredible speed, when a new mass identity is formed, it will then create its own separate and distinctive strands. While older generations may dislike, perhaps even loathe today’s youth, Britain en masse generally accepts their sub-cultures, usually quietly admiring their creativity and pondering why their generation was not quite so inventive. Today’s sub-sections of youthful Britain are constantly evolving, dying off and being rebranded at such a rate it is difficult to put a numerical value on just how many currently exist; what exists today may have transformed into 25 splinter groups or simply have vanished by tomorrow. Groups are particularly prone to disappear once mass marketing gains an understanding of their likes and dislikes and makes an attempt to

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exploit them. Thus, the possibilities for British youth certainly seem endless and their disdain for commercial abuse should be commended. In order to unravel the mystery of Britain’s youth, two questions must be asked: what makes these young people tick and is the regular criticism they suffer by the media justified? ‘Facebook me’, ‘Wiki it’, and ‘Have you checked out his MySpace?’ are phrases you will undoubtedly hear freely bandied about by young British people. Long gone are the days where letter writing, encyclopaedias and physical personal interaction were a necessity for survival. Or are they? Young people still write letters and send parcels, particularly to those they know who are travelling or living in more remote parts of the world. While online resources can be a place of inspiration to the increasing number of young people going onto further and higher education, there are but a few who would rely solely on such resources to prove an academic point. This is especially true when you consider the desire to get one’s money’s worth out of extortionate university tuition fees by not only taking advantage of the reduce-priced alcohol provided by Student Unions but also frequent use of university libraries. And although MySpace has become renowned as a forum for new musical artists to launch their music to the masses, there has never been a better time to perform live. The success of enormous music festivals, intimate gigs and everything in between continues, with tickets selling out in record time, over and over again. Should technology and young people’s love and use of it really be condemned as being responsible for the creation of a lazy, obese, lonely, introvert and socially inept generation? The use of sites such as Facebook and MySpace, have allowed today’s youth to be more interactive than ever

UK FOCUS before. The former particularly facilitates young people’s desire to make friends and form collectives, whether it is university groups, those wishing to celebrate their love of cake or those with an exceptional disdain for Disney films, not to mention how it can aid their organisation of social events. Without social networking sites the popularity of flash-mobs and silent discos (a group of young people descending on a specific place at a specific time and dancing to any track on their mp3 player) would have been impossible to achieve. These are sights which never fail to amuse or brighten up a passerby’s grey, mundane, Monday morning. An aged, grumpy commuter on his way to work should not be denied the fond reminders of what it is to be youthful and doing something unusual and eye-catching for fun. Evolving technology is even doing its best to try and repair and reverse the regretful breakdown of the extended family unit, which the media all too often label as being the sole root of society’s problems. Family and friends are able to keep in touch for free on the interactive chatting tool, Skype. Most significantly, this love of technological evolution disproves the common myth that young people are too accepting of the status quo; as Facebook has realised, they actually constantly crave the new and the exciting. Young people do not let those developing or enjoying the profits of social networking websites rest on their laurels, which is why MySpace has floundered in recent years while Facebook continues to grow. There are two aspects of youthful life which historically and currently contribute to a teenager’s identity: fashion and music. The Edwardians had a particular fondness for bohemian dress and bawdy cabaret and since then music and fashion have become intertwined. Any example can be taken, such as the Punk movement of the late 1970s, from which the bands they liked and the way they dressed are easily recognisable and recallable. There are several current major trends or labels influencing today’s young Brits, including Goth and Emo, but the one causing the greatest stir here and abroad, is Nu Rave. Nu Rave has its roots in the British Rave movement of the late 1980s. There has been a clarion call to dust off and don one’s glow stick again, that is, if one can remember Rave the first time round. Of course, the majority of Nu Ravers are ignorant to the rural star-gazing and urban warehouse acid parties of the 1980s because they are simply too young and lack a glow stick to dust off. So much has demand for glow sticks increased that major companies have jumped on the glow stick-selling bandwagon, including none other than Amazon. In the same way that Punk and Rave were youthful uprisings against Thatcherism and Conservatism, Nu Rave seems to be the outlet by which today’s youth voice their dismissal of the recession, their desire to forget the Blair-Brown years, and their wish for a carefree life in which they can just party. However, while raving and neon may be back, there are some significant differences between the movements. 21st Century raving is no longer taking place in condemned warehouses or muddy fields (with the exception of the annual pilgrimage to the Glade Festival) but instead in clubs on former raving territory such as under London Bridge. There can be no mistaking, this movement is one with a more acceptable face, taking place in clubs with bouncers on the doors, sofas to rest on and beer starting at £4.00 a bottle. That is if you are old enough to get into a club. With the movement increasingly attracting younger and younger teenagers, house parties up and down the country are turning Nu Rave. Rave and Nu Rave both made stands against popular music which was less than ideal to party to: the former against pop and the new romantics,

the latter against the long-standing success of Indie-Rock. Equally, both Rave and Nu Rave have insidiously seeped into the mainstream. Yet, their differences are evident, particularly in the style of the music. This time round the music is more eclectic, and bands at the forefront of the movement, such as The Klaxons, are hard to categorise as performing an individual style of music; instead they mix elements of Rock, Indie and Electronica. Actual raving has also progressed from blissful dancing to resemble mosh pit exuberance. While, Nu Ravers claim not to conform to wearing a uniform it was the original Ravers who could genuinely turn up for a party wearing absolutely anything. Nu Rave does in fact have a basic dress code: it must be neon, glittery and outrageous. In fact, this was the dress code at Trash nightclub in London, which after ten years of celebrating anything which was not mainstream, closed down. Any current Nu Raver would not be seen without a pair of skinny jeans, day-glo frames, some neon paint and, on occasion, a downloadable smiley mask, an emblem of the 1980s Rave scene. Those who have been enjoying Nu Rave for the last five years have probably moved on. Since the scene has become more popular, high street stores such as Top Shop have started cashing in on teenagers’ desire to be part of this collective. Nu Ravers’ success and popularity, as with any youth collective, have proved their downfall. Trash realised that the outrageous had become the mainstream and so closed down. Nu Ravers know it is now just too easy for outsiders to emulate them and, consequently, are being attracted elsewhere. They realise they have killed their own coolness. Yet, the Nu Ravers’ success is nothing to dismiss lightly; they have enjoyed being discussed by columnists such as Sam Knight from the New York Times. Most significantly, however, their influence on teenagers across Europe is extraordinary. Teenagers in cities and towns, one example being Krakow, take to the main square, play Nu-Rave and dance while wearing t-shirts exclaiming, ‘We don’t dance. We are the Dance’. Nevertheless, acceptance is too much. Unfortunately, this time round the scene is less about the combined illegalities of trespassing and drug use, and has meant Nu Rave is all too respectable. If Nu Ravers are not careful they may soon find David Cameron on BBC Radio 4’s Desert Island Discs, claiming to like the New Young Pony Club or The Klaxons thereby destroying Nu Rave in the same way he tarnished Radiohead and Indie music’s reputation. Acceptance poses the biggest problem for young people in Britain today. They desire to create their own identity and be part of an elite collective but they struggle to control how attractive the collective is to outsiders and fail to realise the potential for profit from big business. Youth seems to want to be part of something, but only while it remains underground. Yet, in some elements of their lives they are happy to accept homogeneity, even associating with members of other sub-cultures. At a football match you will see any number of sub-cultures, but they will have all turned up wearing their team’s colours. Why it is acceptable to be part of a collective for sport but not where popular music or fashion is involved may remain a mystery forever. What is certain, however, is that young people will never change; they will continue to push the boundaries of popular culture and technology in a desperate search for new and unknown identities, even if they are simply reinventions of those from the past. As soon as an identity is too popular they will discard it, the same way they do their fast-food wrappers, idly and without a second thought when moving onto something sweeter. And, naturally, young people will always come under scrutiny from older generations and the media. This is true especially for dress; take, for example, a hoody. An individual wearing a hoody identified as representing an Oxbridge University society is regarded in the same vein as another wearing one representing a university offering David Beckham Studies.

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Pop or Proust As the line between highbrow and lowbrow culture breaks down, we will start to embrace all levels of artistry, says Olivia Gagan

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Over the past couple of years, there appears to have been a gradual but definite shake-up of the distinctions between traditional ‘highbrow’ and ‘lowbrow’ culture. When the furore over John Sergeant makes page two of The Times and is debated in Parliament, and Kate Moss is a regular audience member of The X Factor, it would appear that change is afoot in society’s perceptions of what has previously been seen as crass, low-value entertainment. Suddenly, those in the upper echelons of society – writers, world leaders – are taking mass entertainment seriously. The trend has also been working in reverse. The Sun recently ran a promotion to offer its readers tickets to the Royal Opera House (‘Hear a Tenor for less than a Tenner!’), complete with guides in the paper offering its readers tips on deciphering the language and music. The change is important as it suggests that old intellectual and class barriers are breaking down; that both ‘low’ and ‘high’ culture are losing the negative associations that have curtailed their potential to reach a broader spectrum of society. Cheryl Cole’s appearance on the cover of Vogue, and a recent glowing profile of Katie ‘Jordan’ Price by The Times are emblematic of a new attitude towards celebrity; a spirit that embraces all levels of artistry and culture. If a glamour model is being held up by the intelligentsia as the new symbol of self-made fortune and success, and a Geordie pop singer is admitted into the hallowed halls of the fashion elite, the implication is that perceptions are changing towards what constitutes art and

entertainment; perhaps a recognition that mass entertainment carries mass cultural significance and that the high arts – opera, literature, couture – can dovetail with the low. The impetus for the change is unclear. Is this a symptom of the credit crunch? Perhaps. If everyone’s staying in and watching television rather than going out to clubs and gigs, then it makes sense for politicians to engage in what everyone’s talking about over the water cooler the next morning. More cynically, the rich might be realising that embracing ‘low’ culture can give high payouts: whilst Kate Moss was ostensibly at the X Factor shows because daughter Lila Grace is a fan, to be seen on a program of mass appeal can’t have hurt sales of her mass fragrance. The mega-watt performers who made strategic guest appearances – Beyoncé, Britney Spears – also suggest that programs such as the X Factor have moved on from being simply flash-in-the-pan talent shows, and have instead become a strong, important thread in an international pop-cultural fabric. The blurring of cultural lines and divisions is surely a reason to celebrate. Over the next few years, perhaps it will become clear just why it has become okay to love both pop and Proust, to appreciate a beer just as much as a Botticelli. Whatever the reason, don’t expect the new democratisation of the arts to die down anytime soon. This wave seems set to grow and grow.

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Unique Boutiques words: Sophia Martelli photos: KARL HAB, PANJA, THE DOG AND WARDROBE

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Luxury brands juxtaposed with idiosyncratic young designers in super-cool surroundings create a ‘beautiful chaos’ which turns shopping into a true art form On the Rue Saint-Honoré in Paris, situated at the corner of Rue du 29 Juillet, you will find three meticulously designed storeys of all that is cool in fashion, music, art – even in food. The shop – or, as some might term it, temple of hip – is called Colette and if you have been there, you are likely to have spent many happy hours in it. If you haven’t been there, you will probably have heard of it: Colette opened more than 10 years ago. However, it is still called ‘the store of the future’ by industry bloggers and fashion editors alike. Why? Well, the concept Colette Roussaux (the boutique is named eponymously) and her daughter Sarah Lerfel put into action was a simple and an effective one: they mixed it all up. Thus luxury brands – Prada, Gucci – rub shoulders with idiosyncratic young designers, bursting with the energy of the street. Exquisite jewellery is displayed alongside quirky, inexpensive toys; trainers sit next to high heels. A well-edited selection of music, books and magazines is exhibited as carefully as the art on the walls (these too are for sale, and shows have been organised with artists and designers such as Bruce Weber and the late great Yves Saint Laurent). There is a bar in the basement, which serves almost any brand of mineral water you can think of. Colette embraces contrariness – creates a festival out of it, arches an eyebrow and proclaims: fashion is fun! If you think of your favourite boutique – whether in Paris, London, LA, Cologne, Barcelona – all of them have one thing in common: a strong, unique personal vision. While Colette is famous for its juxtaposition of highbrow and lowbrow (which works on many levels: just as the little-known street-influenced labels get a status boost from being on show cheek-by-jowl with bigger luxury global brands, so the Pradas and Guccis get an injection of edgy spirit),

other boutiques have their own approaches and styles. Koh Samui in Covent Garden, for example, is known for its love of colour, texture and feathers: owners Paul Sexton and Talita Zoe select a luxurious, ultra-feminine mix of clothes from international brand names, up-and-coming designers (including exclusive collections from young jewellers) and hand-picked vintage pieces with something of the faerie about them. In contrast, Egg, in a little mews in Knightsbridge, is owner Maureen Doherty’s shrine to minimalism – and lest we forget, in retail terms minimalism equals the greatest luxury of all: space; room to b r e a t h e. A bit of room in a store can turn shopping from the mundane to the transcendental – but only if the objects for sale are exquisite enough to merit the customers’ attention. At Egg, customers such as Donna Karan, Ali MacGraw and Kathleen Turner would assert that they do: modern ethnic clothes – felted wool, loose-fitting cashmere, raw silk – are draped over beechwood furniture and hung against blue and white tiled walls. In winter, a fire blazes upstairs, while in summer the double garage doors are flung open. This is shopping as a stage set; as an art. As the French sociologist and philosopher Jean Baudrillard writes in his book The Consumer Society, ‘Almost all the shops selling clothing or household objects offer a range of differentiated objects, evoking, echoing and offsetting each other’. In the high street, mass market shops pile their goods high, demonstrating ‘the manifest presence of surplus, the magical, definitive negation of scarcity’; here it is abundance that the consumer buys into. With boutiques, customers are buying into the elite. As Baudrillard writes, ‘the antique dealer’s window provides the aristocratic luxury versions of these sets of objects, which evoke not so much a superabundance of substance as a gamut of select and complementary objects presented for the consumer to choose among, but presented also to create in him a psychological chain reaction, as he peruses them, inventories them and grasps them as a total category. Few objects today are offered alone, without a context of objects which ‘speaks’ to them’. This is what the modern boutique does so effectively. Dover Street Market, directed by Comme des Garcons designer Rei Kawakubo, flings together edgy urban fashion labels – whether from London, Paris or Kiev – in super-

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cool surroundings that are part conceptual art show (glass cases in the basement display plaster casts of mini cerebral cortexes; what kind of animal they are from I do not know) and part metropolitan penthouse chic (piles of retro 70s furniture dot the showrooms, presenting hip urbanwear in situ). There is even, on the top floor, an outpost of the Anglo-French Rose Bakery. Kawakubo’s aim, he says, was to create ‘an ongoing atmosphere of beautiful chaos: the mixing up and coming together of kindred souls who all share a strong personal vision’. These shops are lifestyle hubs, demonstrating what, and how, life could be. And because there are more than just clothes and shoes available, for the customer there is the sense that all their needs – whether practical, aural, physical or aesthetic – are met. Thus they are cosseted and protected; satisfied and enriched. Although, of course, by the time they leave the store they are likely to be impoverished, so clever and persuasive is the drive to make customers part with their money: as Baudrillard, master analyst of the process, writes, the consumer is drawn ‘into a series of more complex motivations… bringing [them] to the highest degree of commitment’. By creating such a seductive environment, Kawakubo et al are creating their own vortices of retail pleasure. These emporia are very much a home-grown happening. You won’t find a Dover Street Market in New York (you will, however, find Jeffrey on West 14th Street, a mini Barney’s for the Meatpacking fashionistas that is ‘curated’ – because, Stateside, they do regard shopping as an art – by Jeffrey Kalinsky). Dover Street Market is too quirky, too rough around the edges for the groomed New York crowd. Being so location-specific offers rewards, in particular the quiet satisfaction of private discovery. Try walking into 10 Corso Como – Carla Sozzani’s 13,000-ft treasure trove built around a peaceful Milan courtyard and based on an idea of oriental markets: it’s the kind of gem of a place that makes the pulse beat faster. Admittedly, many of these boutiques’ reputations already precede them. But there are some ‘undiscovered’ ones – emporia you’ll hear about through word of mouth, usually from your most cleverly-dressed friend. In Hoxton, a couple

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of boutiques in particular are building up a buzz among fashion intelligentsia. The Child of the Jago, named after a Victorian novel set in Shoreditch (the shop is also situated there), is the brainchild of Joe Corre – co-founder, with Serena Rees, of Agent Provocateur and son of Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McClaren – and designer Barnzley. The shop celebrates (in an ironic fashion) the youthful villainy described in Arthur Morrison’s novel: in the exposed-brick interior, shoppers can find gold leather masks, 2.5 metre long cashmere scarves, vintage workers’ uniforms, Jago’s Terrorist label (a style described as ‘Victorian Pimp’). The walls are hung with 17th century (and later) prints – including Hogarth’s famous ‘Gin Lane’ series – from the Soho print specialist Andrew Edmunds. Meanwhile, round the corner in Rivington Street is – or rather are, since there are now three separate shops – Start London. Co-founded and co-owned by Brix Start-Smith, once a guitarist with the band The Fall, it is imprinted with her rock-chick charisma: think skinny, cool silhouettes by Phillip Lim, Jill Sander or Vanessa Bruno. Boutique techniques are now being imitated by the high street. All Saints, its windows lined with vintage Singer sewing machines, and its sexy, punky clothes and gothic jewellery laid out on funky, baroque furniture is the mass market’s answer to boutiques such as Start London. Urban Outfitters, with its eclectic mix of homeware, beauty products, novelties – not to mention clothes – is another chain that has been on the boutique bandwagon for longer than some of the boutiques mentioned here. And why not? The idea of mixing it all up is of course an old one; we only need to revisit Beatrix Potter’s The Tale of Ginger and Pickles to find an Edwardian prototype of Colette. ‘Ginger and Pickles sold red spotty pockethandkerchiefs at a penny three farthings,’ writes Potter in 1909. ‘They also sold sugar, snuff and galoshes. In fact, although it was such a small shop it sold nearly everything – except a few things you want in a hurry – like bootlaces, hairpins and mutton chops.’ But old ideas incorporated with intelligent, sometimes fantastical personal vision – well, that’s what has kept all these concept stores remaining fresh for so many years.

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TRAVEL

KOLKATA

by CAROLINE EDEN

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Taxi windows down in the 84 degree haze, we are slowly snaking through rush hour traffic in downtown Kolkata. Thick, dusty pollution billows into my face. Unlike the urban fumes I am used to, it is a soupy, lung cancer-inducing toxic smog. After driving for less than ten minutes I find my back teeth are covered in grit. Finally, we grind to a halt, stuck in a vast array of transportation. Naresh, my driver, tuts, wobbles his head and turns the engine off. The pavements surrounding us are a wealth of human activity, teeming with people, some washing, some selling, some begging – most are barefoot. Nestled between a motorbike repair shop and a vacant building there is an open rubbish dump the size of a two-storey house. Crows feast on the filthy mounds of garbage alongside skin-diseased dogs that are fighting in the mess. Amongst all of this there are a couple of rag-tag children scavenging and groping, looking for something to sell or eat. I cannot help but wonder if my guidebook is wrong; it tells me that Kolkata is a “sister city to Long Beach, California”. The irony is not lost on me. Onwards through the chaos, we pass shop fronts with names like Debonair and Hooray Henry – hangovers from British colonial rule that reflect the city’s rich heritage. Ghosts of times long gone greet me when I finally arrive at my destination: the entrance of the South Park Cemetery. It is here that many of the British free merchants and traders of the East India Company were buried after succumbing to a mind-boggling array of tropical illnesses. Shady and dark, there are hundreds of grand mausoleums and obelisk shaped neo-classical, funerary sculptures.

acceptance of outsiders that draw people like magnets to the city for work. Modern day Kolkata is an Indian mega-city, housing upwards of 15 million people. Any Kolkatan will tell you that this is the official figure – the reality is probably far higher. Every year, the citizens brave the monsoon which lashes the city with incredible rain. These annual downpours encourage the locals to keep the hand-pulled rickshaws in business, by far the most efficient way to navigate flooded streets. Kolkata is in fact the last place on earth where you can witness this inhumane form of transport. Wiry men often just in a vest and lungi, will pull an entire family home through the immensely crowded streets, sad to see, yes, but without his customers the ‘rickshaw wallah’ will not eat. It’s a moral quandary. I decide that should I take one, vowing to pay him triple the fare. Hungry now and keen to embark on my Bengali gastronomic adventure, I arrive at the world famous restaurant chain Oh! Calcutta!. The restaurant promises to toss up delicacies from Kolkata’s 300-year-old cuisine legacy with influences from the distinctive Chinese Tengra cuisine from its Chinese colony. I gaze over a menu that offers such foodie wonders as ‘Dak bunglow chicken curry’ and ‘Chingri chop’. I opt for a Bengali favourite: fish marinated with green chillies, deep fried and served with kasundi (mustard sauce). Delicious and economical by western standards, this was one of the best Indian dishes I have ever had the pleasure of eating. There have been rumours that Anjan Chatterjee is set to take his restaurant brand to London, a sure rival to Chutney Mary and Benares, but alas this has not happened yet.

I cannot help but wonder if my guidebook is wrong; it tells me that Kolkata is a “sister city to Long Beach, California”. The irony is not lost on me

Rudyard Kipling once wrote of the cemetery in City of Dreadful Night (1891), “The tombs are small houses. It is as though we walked down the streets of a town, so tall are they and so closely do they stand – a town shrivelled by fire, and scarred by frost and siege. Men must have been afraid of their friends rising up before the due time that they weighted them with such cruel mounds of masonry.” It is indeed creepy, deserted and decaying even though two very polite, elderly gentlemen tend regularly to the grounds. Most of the tombstones commemorate deaths under the age of 30. Just before leaving I notice the epitaph on Rose Aylmer’s tombstone that mentions she died in 1800, aged only 20, from “eating too much pineapple”. Leaving the cool of the cemetery, map in hand, I pass a shop selling rugs, gems and silver. I am tempted in with the offer of chai from a Kashmiri man. I sit with him as he elaborately spins a kaleidoscope of different coloured pashminas in front of my eyes. With good English he explains to me why he came to Kolkata from his war-torn home.

“I have a bigger business in Delhi too, selling to tourists, but I prefer Kolkata. Kashmiris are not welcome everywhere, but Kolkata is different. My parents feel okay with me being here.” I have heard this before. Despite the obvious poverty – more apparent than in Mumbai, Delhi or Chennai – it is Kolkata’s freedom of expression and

Despite the obvious poverty and decades of communist rule, which helps at least to keep rents low and explains the hammers and sickles on the walls of offices, Kolkata has long been respected as a centre for Indian culture and arts. There is a definite intellectual cafe culture for the fortunate and as one man, Avik, tells me in the garden of the Fairlawn Hotel, “Kolkata is a city of artists, writers and poets – everyone is a poet.” He continued to explain to me that the “golden age is over for Bengal”, but with a booming film industry (dubbed ‘Tollywood’ after the region that accommodates the film studios ‘Tollygunge’), a world-famous book fair and a wealth of literary magazines, I sense it is far from over. The historical cultural legacy is indeed rich – Nobel Prize winner Rabindranath Tagore was born in the city, as was Satyajit Ray (India’s first internationally recognised film-maker). The city was the birthplace of the great English novelist William Thackeray, and also Vikram Seth. It was home to German Nobel laureate Gunter Grass for some time, and even Charles Baudelaire was sent on a voyage to Kolkata by his stepfather in 1841. Much later, bohemian Allen Ginsburg drifted into town and visited the ghats for enlightenment: a fine cultural legacy for any city. My conclusion as the plane took off to the neon lights of Bangkok is that Kolkata should no longer just be associated with slums, destitution, and the work of Mother Teresa. It is a fascinating, if challenging, destination that is rewarding for any visitor with a little determination.

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The Bourgeois Boot

Despite a long association with the chattering classes, Tuscany still retains its rustic charm, says Elizabeth Dickson

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TRAVEL The villa in Tuscany has become a dirty phrase. It’s for the hideously middleclass liberal-lefties that like having “simple peasant food” and practising new languages at group workshops while nibbling on Panettone. Italy’s a country that’s far removed from the mitigating circumstances of anywhere hot in the third-world that they’ve raised money for throughout the year in association with Felicity’s primary school, but wouldn’t dream of going there on holiday because they’d be supporting the hotel trade that’s ruining the farmer economy and there’s a chance they’d get Malaria. Italy is perfect for the middle-class: advanced enough that they can spend, spend, spend without feeling guilty because it was all so hilariously cheap – not so now with the Euro (but they can’t do anything about that) – and dressup in John Lewis’s own brand without feeling guilty, but rudimentary enough to delight in the weather-beaten farmers and their zucchini, simper over strange Roman Catholic customs and laugh at European décor. Anyone who watched Newsnight last May ought to have enjoyed Richard Littlejohn attacking Polly Toynbee’s nonsensical ‘tax for a greener world’ policies by asking the po-faced madam, “Do you think about global warming when you fly to your villa in Tuscany?” Quite. Not only have the middle-class had to trade in their Land Rovers for smaller people carriers, there’s now a whole collective of families living in Islington that have to pretend they’re off to Butlins every summer. I don’t care that the holiday in Tuscany has become passé. I don’t care if it makes me frightfully predictable. I love Italy, and if I want to escape from it all for a few weeks, there’s nowhere else I’d rather go. I happily cross borders and continents to foreign lands, but that’s travelling and travelling is not relaxing. Fun, exciting and can bring utopian highs of delight, but not relaxing. I love the smell of Italy: a mix of fertile soil, sun and gasoline. Every year I take the best part of Waterstones with me, bags of PG tips and a swimsuit in the summer, Ugg boots in the winter. I can be happy for months, lounging around in a haze of pasta-bloat and red wine.

The village we inhabit, Castelletto, claims on its sole webpage that it has a population of 60. This is absolute rot. It has a population of about seven, advancing to about 15 in the summer when our friends come to visit. It has no restaurant, no shop and the lady that owned the last public-use telephone has sadly passed away. It used to have a milk-lady and a dozen cows but they too have left for greener pastures. The village now consists of a few farmers who languidly roll about on tractors, two horses, a forestfull of Cinghiale that escaped from their pen a few years ago and have yet to be located, and a crazy lady who lives in a corrugated steel barn and steals underwear from everyone else’s washing lines. The next village, a mile in distance, is slightly more cosmopolitan: it has its own restaurant, a delicatessen, a church and a post office. The post office is never open. The restaurant doesn’t have a menu, and the walls are covered in blinking sacred hearts, plaster Madonnas and pictures of the various types of fungi. The food is very good, unless visiting on a Monday when you’re given Sunday’s leftovers. Even more sophisticated is the next village up the mountain, Pontecchio. They have a hotel and restaurant. The food is excellent. Here they have stuffed wild boar heads on the wall and on special occasions a menu is provided. It’s not really the type of menu you’d expect: rather than choose a few dishes that you want to eat, they’re just giving you a heads-up on what you’re expected to eat. Lunch is taken very early and very seriously. It’s always at least three courses and if you’re at all image conscious I’d avoid eating with the Italians on a Sunday or any national holiday as you’re forcefully encouraged to eat and enjoy the equivalent of Pavarotti’s body weight.

I love the smell of Italy: a mix of fertile soil, sun and gasoline. Every year I take the best part of Waterstones with me, bags of PG tips and a swimsuit in the summer, Ugg boots in the winter. I can be happy for months, lounging around in a haze of pastabloat and red wine

Most of my holidays have been spent in Giuncugnano, a small district in the far north of the Garfagnana – a province of Lucca, situated a little above what is generally accepted as the Tuscan region. The Garfagnana and the Apuan Alps are recommended by their tourist board as the perfect place to hike, for “a healthy and invigorating holiday in Tuscany.” Well, I really wouldn’t bother. You can see the view perfectly well, if not better, from the terrace of any restaurant or bar in the region. The Garfagnana is not the place to go if you’re looking to blend in. No matter how well you think you pronounce your elaborate “Buongiorno”, everyone here knows everyone one else and they can spot a tourist a mile off. That’s not to say the locals don’t treat you as affably as the rest, far from it, but you will be stared at. Continuously. The villages are all quiet; barren in the winter. The area is a holiday home district for Italians. They come up from the bigger cities to spend holiday seasons in the countryside (which is very buono for their health) without leaving their beloved homeland. It doesn’t stop them poking fun at the natives.

The highlight of any given week is market day, which falls on a Tuesday in Piazza al Serchio. Everyone from the surrounding villages comes to market day, and it’s almost as enjoyable as a full-flung Italian fiesta. Everyone starts the morning with an espresso and a pastry, which more often than not is unfathomably stuffed with congealed custard. Shopping is done in the same way it’s done in most of the world’s markets: hassling, shouting and goodnatured pushing. The fresh produce is sublime. Strangely enough, northern Italians get slightly affronted when faced with salad – restaurants never offer it and you really do need to beg for greenery. It’s a shame as they produce the best tomatoes I’ve ever tasted: I could talk for hours about the superiority of Italian tomatoes and so could the Italians. We always buy the local wine that comes at one Euro per litre and take it home to top up the demijohn in the cellar. The red wine is beyond repute and, though tried and tested countless times, seems to have mythical qualities in that it is yet to provide its drinker with a hangover. Its evil twin, the white ‘plonk’, tastes utterly appalling in this region and is to be avoided at all costs if you value your tooth enamel. The market experience falls to its timely close with a chat in the market bar, drinking campari and letting the children play on 80s slot machines while the parents play ‘Avoid the other middle-class British couples’. It’s an easy life.

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Tech Style

Aesthetic isn’t pathetic when it comes to our guide to techy accessories. Style is just as important as function in the world of microchips and megabytes by CLEO DAVIS

Portable Pet

Microsoft has created the Arc Mouse, an easily portable mouse that folds to 60% of its fully expanded size. No more attempts to sue your company for repetitive stress injuries though, as it reduces the risk thanks to the innovative shape and design. Nice one Microboffs! Although one downfall, it doesn’t work on glass surfaces. Priced at £49.99. www.microsoft.com

All White

What is about white coloured computers and accessories that we love? These HD 288 Sennheiser headphones will hum sweet music and style to your ears while providing excellent bass performance as well as a comfortable fit. High ease-of-use is also guaranteed with their single-sided cable. www.sennheiser.com

Eco Screening

So long cinema, hello huge screen in my living room. This Sony TV has been created for the new eco-friendly BRAVIA™ line-up headed by the innovative WE5 series that sets new standards for energy efficiency. Packed with power-conserving features including a clever little ‘Presence Sensor’ that detects the body heat and movement of anyone sitting within normal range of the screen. If the viewer leaves the room – to answer the door or during a commercial break – the sensor activates an energy-saving ‘picture off’ mode, while leaving TV sound on. The picture turns back on as soon as the viewer re-enters the room.

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Golden Receiver

Bang & Olufsen’s new range of golden goods will have you swooning and crooning to its five star style speakers and sound systems. Only a selected few items have been invited to join this regal range in order to maintain its exclusivity, and every item is made to order. £price on application. www.bang-olufsen.com

GADGETS

Bling bling

A bit OTT for a phone…nah! If you have an iPhone, you must be a bit of a show-off anyway. So what harm can adding a few Swarovski and sapphire crystals around the edge do to make it just that wee bit more visible? Apart from the extra bling that will definitely blind you, the Goldstriker customisation service for the 3G iPhone will also burn a £599 hole in your wallet - only rappers and well-heeled fashionistas ought to apply.

ring ring

Silence isn’t golden when this bar of beauty starts ringing; all envious eyes will be on your shiny 24-carat 3G iPhone. This unique customisation service is by Goldstriker. Gold mine? Gold yours, for a royal price of £499. www.goldstriker.co.uk

Need some Diesel

Our friends at Fiat know exactly how to turn us trendy types on. Based on the sport version, the Fiat 500 continues to make itself heard with the new ‘500 by DIESEL’. Denim seats adorn the interior with lashings of logos for the brand lovers. Produced in limited edition; 10,000 copies in two years. Prices are 15,000 Euros for the “500 by DIESEL” equipped with the 1.2 69 bhp and €17,000 for versions with the 1.3 Multijet 75 bhp with DPF or 1.4 16v 100 bhp. www.500bydiesel.com

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The Art of Subterranean Living by AMY TIPPER-HALE photos: LOUISE MELCHIOR, RICHARD DAVIES, PAUL TYAGI

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Dinos Chapman is one of Britain’s most controversial artists and has become an intrinsic part of the British art movement, alongside his artistic partner and brother, Jake Chapman. When I visit him at his home in Fashion Street, London, I find him making tea and feeding the dogs. A kind, warm character, he’s a far cry from the daemon of inappropriate art the media like to make out. He points to a dumpster below the window. The night before he’d seen two men snorting coke off them and urinating. Which is why, he explains, his latest building project at a reservoir in Kent couldn’t happen too soon. Why did Kent seem so appealing? We looked everywhere. I wanted to build something rather than buy something. We took trips to Devon and the southwest but although the areas are really nice, it’s actually impossible to get there. From the east end of London to the west it takes about an hour and a half. You would also be doing the journey at the same time as everyone else. It’s a place we can cause havoc without the neighbours complaining and where we can go to escape the mayhem of this area. How did you end up building on a reservoir? I spoke to the architect, Kevin Brennan, about doing another project and asked to keep his ears and eyes open for any space or area that might come along. Then he discovered the disused reservoir. Why an extra home in Britain rather than abroad? I like the idea of getting a place abroad but unless you’re totally in love with the area, you go a few times and then you’re bored. The best thing about summer holidays is going to places you haven’t been to. I have friends who bought a place in Trinidad, and as much as I like Trinidad, it’s not a place that I want to go for every holiday, every year. In Kent the kids can enjoy it when they’re older and there’s no fuss. The Kent house is not yet completed. How is the building work going? It started two years ago, with planning permission saying we could go straight ahead with it. Unfortunately we couldn’t start ‘til the end of the summer because they found slow worms in the area. The worms are still protected so we had to get in a specialist in to remove them, as they are considered rare in Europe – but not in Kent. It was a bit of a catch 22 situation, the locals regularly chop them up with lawnmowers, but there was nothing we could do. It cost us both our arms and legs. Will you be going with a similar modernist approach in the building of Kent, as you’ve done here in Fashion Street? It’s going to look very uncluttered. We have been poring over plans and it’s sort of going to be like a Bond villain’s hideaway. It comes from looking at science fiction films from the seventies, all made on really cheap budgets – for sets they scouted around for futuristic houses that were actually really interesting architectural designs. Is there any film or concept that has particularly influenced the design of the house? Rollerball. The party they have in his house. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I’ve been thinking – I want that big party with all the TV screens. It’s a fantasy to actually build something. It’s only just hit me that this is going to be such a major project and it’s going to be really interesting. It’s only until you put a hole in front of the building and look inside it you realise how big it is. It’s huge. It’s going to be very different to the Fashion Street house. It’s all on one floor, 7,000 square feet. I don’t know what it’s going to look like – I’ve got ideas about it but until its got walls on it we just won’t know. But that’s why its fun to do.

Do you thing there’s a design trend repeated in British housing – Modern, but not quite getting there? Its like when you look at G plan furniture – it all has a direct lineage to Bauhaus, so the modernism is there, but it’s been snuck in a very gentle way. G plan furniture is in all the trendy second hand furniture shops, but it’s the kind of stuff everybody hated! I think people here are not really up for interesting buildings – I don’t think the British people ever got particularly in to it. What do you think are the difficulties in designing and building your own house? I think that it’s just as easy to design a house nicely as it is to design a house badly. You can spend so much money and time building a mock Tudor bough house and when you drive out of London, you just see row upon row of these awful things. And they’re expensive. I think the difficulty is that if people were given the opportunity of having their house built, you find it is extremely expensive, and then having a house built by an architect can be extremely prohibitive. This is because there’s no culture of it, if more people wanted to build their own houses to a different set of rules it would be great, but people tend to do what they’re told. Do you think that modernism isn’t truly appreciated in this country? Yes, with everything: contempory art, music, design and architecture. I think there’s a cosiness gene that we have. It doesn’t allow people to live in funny places. For about six months we had an empty, reverberating, modernist house and over the years we’ve filled it with junk. So really we need to build a new place to put all this junk. You’ve built with the architect Kevin Brennan on the house in Fashion Street and most recently the House in Kent. How do you find working with him? It’s like working with my brother making art – you kick each other along a bit. One person has an idea then the other person goes away and thinks about it, develops the idea and that way it becomes more extreme. With Kevin it’s been really interesting as it’s all been happening on paper. With Fashion Street lots of things changed during building, and it’s still being built. What Kevin is really good at is discovering space in places that don’t initially seem very spacious. He actually bought our old house in New Cross. When we had it, it was seemed smaller. You wouldn’t believe it’s the same house after what he’s done with it. Every time I go there I think, you practised on my house and you’ve done the best job on your own house. How much of your own art work goes in the house on Fashion Street? At the moment, not a lot. We did have loads up but the house doesn’t have much wall space. I have got loads of stuff in frames on the floor. I can’t be bothered to actually put them up – I do it so badly I just end up being so frustrated. I think once it’s all finished here I’ll hire someone to put the paintings up and be done with it. Do you work from home often? I do, I’ve got a studio downstairs in the basement and at the place in Kent I’ll have one too. But my studio is just down the road from here. I tend to work in the basement at night – it’s very quiet and I like working during the nighttime. It feels slightly subterranean. Are there any new projects looming in the future? They think Kent will be finished quickly. I’m a fiddler so I can’t not be doing anything. I need to keep building and having on-going projects. We’re always changing the house in London because we’re here all the time and it’s easy to become critical of what you’ve done.

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“ I think there’s a cosiness gene that we have. It doesn’t allow people to live in funny places. ” 133

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At the age of fifteen, Sunil Pawar skipped school one afternoon, and walked into the North London offices of music legends Soul II Soul with a bag full of paintings – he sold everyone of them. Seventeen years later, Sunil’s painting and DJing talents have lead him into an artist whirlwind of a career, becoming one of London’s east end upcoming names among the easel and decks crowd. Clients have included Commes des Garcon for three seasons, Harvey Nichols, Reebok, BBC, Converse, Levi’s and Le Coq Sportif. Sunil’s art echoes a world of DJ culture, sound system clashes, graffiti art and sport, using a bold mixture of spray paints and acrylics. His paintings are as loud and bold as the music that inspired them. Sunil was featured in the book Stencil Graffiti by Tristan Manco and regularly appears in exhibitions, magazines and books worldwide.

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Righting a Wrong Being a liberal is the easy, default option; it’s the right-wingers that are the real non-conformists, argues James Delingpole

photos: JOSHUA LACHKOVIC AND TRAVELLING MONKEYS

I couldn’t tell you the year when I realised that I was an incorrigible rightwing bastard, but I do remember the exact moment. It was at Glastonbury Festival. Elbow were playing. As per usual I’d had a few jazz Woodbines so I was feeling pretty mellow. But then something happened which jerked me out of my mellowness and altered my vision of the world as completely and irrevocably as the moment in The Matrix where Neo chooses (or doesn’t choose, I forget which) to eat that special pill. Guy Garvey pointed his mic at the audience and asked us all to sing. Now I’ve never been much of a fan of audience singalongs at the best of times. I can’t sing. I always embarrass myself by not knowing the lyrics, and I don’t much like having compulsory group “fun” activities imposed on me when I’m trying to relax and enjoy music performed by professionals rather than some amateur chorus of tuneless, brainless, lagered-up caterwaulers. But this was something else altogether. The lyrics Guy Garvey was asking us to sing – and I really like Guy Garvey, by the way: surely one of the most beautiful minds in pop, which is what made the experience all the sadder – went like this: “We still be-lieve in love. So fuck you!” What I objected to wasn’t the swearing, obviously, but the political sentiment. This, I should explain, was the time of the second Gulf War and these lyrics were clearly directed at the evil George W Bush and his poodle Blair. “You two warmongers might enjoy bombing the hell out of innocent Iraqi orphans for the pure sadistic pleasure of it,” the subtext of those lyrics ran. “But we, the caring people, the nice people, the good people think it’s better to love than hate.”

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‘Bloody hell.’ I thought to myself. ‘If only it were that simple’. Now it doesn’t really matter whether you yourself were for or against the Iraq wars. You’re entitled to your view as I am entitled to mine which was that actually, it really wasn’t such a bad thing to try deposing a guy who poison-gassed Kurds, machine-gunned Marsh Arabs from helicopters and fed his Shia opposition into mincing machines. With hindsight, I can see that there are lots of equally compelling reasons why we should have let the murderous scumbag stay in charge, and perhaps you can too. Either way, we can surely agree on one thing: that there was a bit more moral complexity inherent in this situation than can be dealt with in one line from a pop song. Now Guy Garvey was pointing his mic to us again: “We still be-lieve in love. So fuck you!” This time I didn’t even make a semblance of a stab of a halfarsed attempt to sing those words along with everyone else. My tail was up. What so galled me was the presumptuous arrogance of it all; this glib assumption that there was a ‘right’ view on Iraq and a ‘wrong’ view. And that anyone who didn’t hold the official, rock-star-sanctioned ‘right’ view must perforce be an evil, murderous nutcase with hate in his heart. ‘Funny’, I thought to myself. ‘Here I am at Glastonbury, the festival which more than any other prides itself on its liberalism, its free-spiritedness, its general, all-round, peace’n’loviness. Yet suddenly I’m being made to feel about as welcome as a gay, Jewish gipsy at a Nazi party rally.’ From this moment onwards, things that hadn’t previously annoyed me about Glastonbury started to irk me very much indeed. Like the endless propaganda adverts for Greenpeace broadcast on huge screens between sets, tacitly inviting us all to applaud their Leftist agitators as they scaled the cooling

FOCUS towers of power stations and unfurled banners and generally made it harder for our electricity suppliers to get on with their healthy, decent business of powering our factories and lighting our homes. And the ones – Jesus, this was more than I could bear – the ones advertising Michael Moore’s latest movie. A man next to me – white, educated, well-paid: the kind of guy whose comfortable lifestyle owes everything to the value system Moore opposes – started applauding one of Moore’s jokes. “You think that treacherous, manipulative, fake ordinary Joe multi-millionaire is funny, do you?” I began muttering under my breath. “You think it was clever, do you, the line he came up with about if the passengers had all been black on those 9/11 planes, the Twin Towers would still be standing because black guys don’t take no shit whereas stupid white men...” And my wife had to drag me off before we got in to a fight. (Very un-Glastonbury that would have been). “Well what the hell did you expect from a bunch of hippies?” my (very few) rightwing friends said afterwards when I told them the story. “Um – tolerance? Open-mindedness?” I said. “Yeah right,” my right-wing friends scoffed. “Welcome to the real world!” Up until this point, I’d always rather enjoyed playing the weekend hippy. In fact, I’ve probably been intensely happy more often at Glastonbury than I have anywhere else on earth. I love the music. I love the weird sights in the circus field. I love the camaraderie. I love the stone circle. I love the crazy sauna. I love the beautiful girls with their belly buttons showing. What I love most of all is the vibe. You’ll sit down on one of the makeshift benches by the campfire in the Tiny Tea Tent with your mug of chai and instantly strike up a conversation with your neighbour, knowing that at Glastonbury there’s no such thing as a stranger, only a friend you’ve never met. Someone will start playing the didgeridoo. Another will be pounding out a rhythm on his Djembe drum. A fat joint will be passed round. A homely middle-aged woman with a bindi in the middle of her forehead will voluntarily begin manipulating your chakras. “Wow!” you start thinking. “We could build ourselves a whole new civilisation here. One run by organic food collectives, tai chi sifus, earth mothers, zero balancers and bearded old men called Dragonsbane who parade in white flowing robes round Stonehenge every year for the Summer Solstice!” Then the drugs wear off, reality kicks in, it’s back to the day job and that’s it for another year. And where’s the harm in any of that? Absolutely nothing, I used to think in the years leading up to that Elbow-influenced moment of personal revelation. Now though, I’m not sure. While I still love the festival with a passion – it’s the best on earth, always will be – I’ve lost my illusions about the political values that underpin it. Sure I realise that it springs from the best of motives, the prevailing Glasto ideology of the tree-hugging liberal-left. But what I also understand, as I didn’t properly before, is the intolerance, and control-freakery and hatred of human nature that lies beneath it. Funny, isn’t it? The people we’re usually taught to see as the nasty ones are the right-wingers. Right-wing people – or Conservatives, Tories, whatever you want to call them, so long as it’s with a sneer – are selfish and prejudiced and morally deficient. They have terrible dress sense, bad taste in music and they’re rubbish in bed. Left-wing people, on the other hand – and Greens and Liberals – are caring

and sensitive and raffish and groovy and great in the sack. They care about the planet and animals and the disabled. They love one another irrespective of colour or creed. They want to make the world a better place. Nothing they do to further their cause can ever be too intrusive or extreme because, hey, they’re the good guys and their intentions are noble. Which just goes to show what a genius Antonio Gramsci was. Gramsci was the early Twentieth Century Marxist thinker who realised that in order to win the long-term political war the Left must first win the cultural one. Winning elections, he understood, was far less important than capturing the institutions that shape our thought: the seats of learning, the media, the theatres, the literary salons, the broadcasters, the Somerset pop festivals and so forth. Almost without our being aware of it, the version of the world we are presented by our teachers, our playwrights, our BBC newscasters is essentially that of the green-tinged liberal left. If this sounds like so much right-wing paranoia, well, that’s probably because we right-wingers have every reason to be paranoid. Over the last dozen years we’ve watched school and university standards plummet in the name of “progressive” education; we’ve seen our traditional liberties (everything from how we choose to discipline our children to whether or not we’re allowed to hunt foxes) eroded; we’ve seen more and more of our money confiscated in taxes to pay for services that seem to get worse and worse; our businesses and hobbies are subject to ever greater regulation; our crowded island is being overwhelmed; our security is endangered. Yet whenever we try to raise our voices in protest, we’re told that our views don’t count. We’re the bad guys, the selfish guys. It’s the Left that has the answers, not us evil right-wing bastards. Well, speaking on behalf of all my fellow right-wing bastards out there, I reckon we’ve had quite enough of this. I have no more faith that socialism is the solution to America’s problems – hence my new book Welcome to Obamaland: I’ve Seen Your Future And It Doesn’t Work – any more than it has been for Britain’s. Quite the contrary. In my view, there’s no problem in the world so terrible that a bit of well-meaning liberal-leftism can’t make a good deal worse. What it comes down to, au fond, is the opposing ideologies’ very different views on human nature. If you’re a Right-y, your position is broadly optimistic. Yes, man is capable of tremendous stupidity and evil (War, I’m A Celebrity…, John Prescott, etc) but within certain modest constraints (property rights, the rule of law, minimal taxation for things like national defence and a welfare safety net) he can be trusted to do the right thing. He doesn’t need government to tell him what to do because instinctively he knows: through friendships, through business partnerships, through family bonds, you form interlinked groups of mutual self-interest which tend inevitably towards the greater good. As Mrs Thatcher didn’t say, though she surely meant: “There IS such a thing as society and it’s created voluntarily by free individuals without any need for big government to stick its oar in.” If you’re a Lefty – or a Liberal or a Green, and I make no distinction for they all spring from the same basic impulse – your view of human nature is fundamentally pessimistic. Unlike the Righties, you believe that man is so grotesquely flawed that the only way to create social justice is for the state to take control and police his life at every opportunity. You don’t trust him to spend his money well (that’s why you take so much of it in taxes, for the

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wise state to spend on all its marvellous improving schemes); you believe everything from the way he brings up his kids to whether or not he smokes to the way he disposes of his rubbish needs obsessive micromanagement. In fact, you believe man is essentially a blot on the landscape, who deserves punishing for the crime of his existence by ever-tighter regulations, stricter bureaucracy and more vicious taxation. So I suppose I ought to be grateful to Elbow for teaching me this valuable lesson. It didn’t do much for my enjoyment of Glastonbury that particular year, but what it did do was force me to think hard about why it is that I hold my political position. A lot harder, I would suspect, than most Left-liberals have ever had to think about theirs. You see, anyone can become a Lefty. It’s not a position that requires any deep thought or conviction. You can just drift into it because your heart tells you – as so many people do when they’re young and ruled by emotions because their brains haven’t properly developed – that this is the way all the nice people vote. No one’s going to ask you to justify yourself. Thanks to the good work of Gramsci it is has become the default ideology for people who don’t know much about politics but do know they want to be liked and get laid. Being a right-wing bastard, on the other hand, is a much tougher proposition. You’re constantly being wheeled out at parties, like some performing bear, to make controversial remarks and appal everyone with your despicable views.

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“This is James. Now you mustn’t be offended but he’s terribly right-wing...” This is fine once in a while but jolly exhausting if you’re not in the mood. And also rather insulting for behind it lies the assumption that you only became right-wing as a contrarian gesture or because you are quite simply an unashamed tosser. No one could possibly be right-wing because they actually want to make the world a better place, could they? Well, yes, actually, they could. I’m not trying to argue that Conservative governments don’t make mistakes. Of course they do. All governments, left or right, tend inevitably towards incompetence, which is why I’m so keen that they should have less control of our lives, not more. The reason I’m right-wing is because I believe in humankind. I believe that each and every one of us is so special that only in the most extreme of circumstances – conscription in time of world war, say – should government be allowed to encroach on our freedoms to do what we want, with whom we want, when we want, so long as it doesn’t conflict with the freedoms of others to do what the hell they want. I believe in liberty: the more of it we have, the happier we’ll be. Call me a bastard if you will. But that doesn’t make me wrong. James Delingpole is the author of Welcome to Obamaland: I’ve Seen Your Future And It Doesn’t Work (Regnery) and How To Be Right (Headline)

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MUSIC

Reverend and

the Makers Angry, opinionated and fiercely political, front man John McClure explains why heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll never get on his knees for column inches

by MICHAEL WYLIE-HARRIS

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MUSIC John McClure is not the easiest man to get hold of. “He is,” says his long-suffering

roots in performance poetry (he’s just done a poem with Benjamin Zephaniah) McClure

publicist, “a law unto himself”. The Sheffield-born singer, performance poet and

is all about speaking out on the issue of the day, and feels like he’s the only one in the

front man of Reverend and the Makers (McClure being – naturally – ‘the Reverend’

industry prepared to take a stand on some of the injustices of the modern world. “I did

of the piece) is what you might call unpredictable. Wildly charismatic, fervently

a gig with Billy Bragg and Mick Jones (from The Clash) the other day,” he says. “Two

uncompromising, fiercely political, at times McClure seems like a man on the brink.

heroes of mine. We played a couple of songs and it was really good and it dawned on

Five minutes into our conversation I’m beginning to see what the publicist means. A

me from there that the world we live in is more fucked up than ever, yet the amount

law unto himself? Force of nature seems nearer the mark. In May 2007, Reverend and

of people who are prepared to speak out is less than it’s ever been. “Every one just

the Makers broke into the public consciousness with the smash hit single Heavyweight

seems to be completely enthralled by some taste-maker in Hoxton. No one’s actually

Champion of the World. Reaching number eight in the UK singles charts the song

thinking for themselves or actually giving a shit. It’s like there’s an elephant in the room,

– with its infectious, radio-friendly chorus – became one of the massive hits of the

you know? Like, ‘You see that big fucking grey thing over there?’ but no one actually

summer and saw the band playing unlikely gigs alongside pop acts like Rachel Stevens

talks about it. You think, ‘What’s going on, you people?’ There’s people getting shot

at Channel 4’s teen-fest T4 on the Beach. At the time, I remember McClure looking

up and no-one seems to care. “Literally of every single one of the new artists around

uncomfortable on stage. The ‘shiny happy’ T4 presenters, the thousands of screaming

at the moment, I am the only person making a statement about anything. If an alien

pre-pubescent pop-fans, the Weston-super-Mare backdrop. Somehow it just didn’t fit.

descended on earth today and went into HMV and listened to all the new albums that

Something was very wrong here. It felt like seeing The Sex Pistols at The Royal Variety

have been out this century and tried to form an opinion of what has been going on in the

Performance.

world, he wouldn’t have a fucking clue. There is nothing. Just nothing.” And McClure really is true to his word. Currently launching a website where kids are encouraged to

From an outsider’s perspective, Reverend and the Makers may look like they’ve failed to

lobby their local MP on issues of the day, he’s also planning a self-funded visit to meet

live up to the potential they exuded in 2007. It’s true that as an act they haven’t bloomed

freedom-fighting Venezuelan Prime Minister, Hugo Chavez. It’s all impassioned stuff,

quite as they might, but not coming through on the column inches or downloads they

but what about the music? Telling me how he feels an affinity with the anti-American,

perhaps should have is down to one thing only: their singer’s refusal to succumb to

socialist Chavez (“He’s like me, man: we’re the only ones telling the truth”), I realise it’s

record label pressure and play the media game. Apparently when The Arctic Monkeys

a waste of time bringing an agenda to an interview with John McClure. I’ve managed

broke, McClure – on the dole at the time – turned downed mega bucks from a host

to get a few words out of him about the new Reverend and the Makers album due out

of major labels to front a money-spinning copy-cat band. Is it true? In short, yes. It is a

later this year (which apparently sounds like Forever Changes by Love) but other than

trend that has characterised the man ever since, and when I finally catch up with him,

that, he’s pretty much been calling the shots. So far we’ve covered racism in the music

gazing out of the window of his new Sheffield home, smoking Silk Cuts (he covers the

press, the American exploitation of South America, white music’s inability to produce

filters to make them more like Marlborough: “It’ll give you a fuckin’ heart attack trying to

any progressive genres since the 60s and the lack of political activism in modern

take a drag off ’em otherwise”), he’s not shy in telling me about it: “I never wanted to be

music, not to mention the conspiracy theories he’s demanded I turn my Dictaphone

The Arctic Moneys,” spits McClure, his thick-Yorkshire accent a continued testament

off for. “In the past 20 years the black British MC has innovated from ‘hip-hop’ to ‘dub’

to his proud Sheffield roots. “The Arctic Monkeys don’t say anything. No disrespect to

to ‘grime’ to ‘gabba’ to ‘jungle ‘to ‘drum n’ bass’ and there’s all manner of styles in

The Arctic Monkeys. Arctic Monkeys are a four-piece rock band who make rock music.

between,” explains McClure on another tangent. “In the same period, white Caucasian

Very good rock music. But nevertheless make rock music and don’t particularly want

rock music has given us Britpop, the new rock revolution and nu rave, all of which are

to offer their opinions on the world. I, however, am an individual who has a lot to say

backwards, retrospective looking movements. “At the same time the black and Asian

about what’s going in the world. They wanted me to be The Arctic Mokeys, but I’m not

MCs have been completely written out of the narrative of British musical history. If you

gonna be someone’s cash cow. I’m a maverick. If you wanna offer me a quarter of a

go to council estates they’re all listening to Skinnyman – you never see him on the front

million pounds to do something, you can fuck off. Indie music in Britain has become

cover of the NME. Something like 71 per cent of the British music press is white, public

a complete anachronism. 1965 are owned by Sony for fuck’s sake. I want a genuine

school educated males. Do you see the problem?”

independent label but it’s fucking tough, man. I could be a bigger star if I were on a major label, but I’m not on a major label – I’m on an indie. I don’t bow to anyone. I might

John McClure’s prickly dislike for journalists is obvious, but it’s easy to warm to his

make three, four, five albums but I’ve never gone cap in hand to anyone.”

self-deprecating Sheffield charm. While he talks about politics with a certain amount of anger, there remains an underlying sense of humour about it all. If he’s discussing

In some ways, McClure is your archetypal angry, idealistic artist. His adamant refusal

problems in the attitudes of music journalists, you know he’s never more than one step

to leave his beloved Sheffield and move to London, as well as his contempt for major

away from a quip about how I’m a bitter failed musician myself; and frustrations about

record labels and bitter disdain for music journalists (all, apparently, “white, middle-

the staid nature of current music trends are interjected with anecdotes from comics

class public school boys” and, therefore, inherently racist), have made him a difficult

John Shuttleworth or Peter Kay. On one of many lighter notes, he tells me about his

product to package in an increasingly fickle modern music industry. “The whole thing

love for the city he grew up in, the vibrancy of its music scene and why there’s an

smacks of Sean Connery who rolls out the Scottish nationalist stuff once in a while

inherent humour present in the work of so many of its writers and musicians: “The

but in reality he’s been playing golf in fucking Spain,” he tells me, of the throng of local

writers are all very tongue in cheek up here,” he says. “There’s a real kind of humour

musicians that have moved straight to London after their first taste of success. “You

that comes from Sheffield. I think it comes from the whole laughing in the face of

get a lot of that with Sheffield. People saying, ‘Yeah, it’s right good, Sheffield’, and

adversity thing, because we had it a bit rough up here in the 80s. “I think there’s a

you’re thinking, ‘When was the last time you came home brother?’. I’ll never move

bitterness from the 80s and you will hear that in Jarvis Cocker or in Richard Hawley’s

to London. I’m not gonna pander to that whole going-down-to-London and sucking

lyrics. There’s a lot of humour that comes from that ‘if you don’t laugh you’ll cry’ thing.

cock to succeed thing. I’ve done it all from the north.” You can’t help but think that in

You’ll also hear it in Alex Turner’s early lyrics.”

some ways McClure is his own worse enemy. His desire to be heard is compromised by his refusal to give way to major label politics (he’s turned down lucrative tours of

The second Reverend and the Makers album comes out later this year, as does the

places like Australia in favour of more politically-motivated visits to Venezuela and South

debut from McClure’s side project, Mongrel. I’ve already heard the Mongrel album

America); so whatever his message, the audience will always be marginalised. Added

and it’s good – like a more hard-hitting version of Gorillaz – and the Reverend album

to this, the abrasive way he has dealt with the music press in the past continues to

promises great things too. Both albums are bound to be critical successes, but how

curb potential media coverage (throughout our interview he complains to me about the

they fare commercially will depend on McClure, and whether or not he’s prepared to

NME’s refusal to put his side project, Mongrel, on their front cover) – he is, remember,

play the game this time around. Personally though, I think I’d rather see him rallying

“a law unto himself”. At the moment John McClure is justifiably angry about current

the troops in some far-flung South American demonstration than on T4 on the Beach

pop music’s failure to talk about anything of political or social importance. With his

in 2009.

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A Pressing Issue words: OLIVIA GAGAN images: ADAM HIPPMAN

With Zimbabwe’s free press silenced by an oppressive government, shouldn’t Western media speak out for those who can’t, asks Olivia Gagan

When Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) published their annual Top 10 Humanitarian crises in December, highlighting situations they felt were in need of urgent assistance, Zimbabwe featured highly on the list. After the collapse of the 2008 deal to delegate some of President Mugabe’s crippling power, it is a country where disappointment and disillusionment proliferate. Currently experiencing mindblowing rates of inflation, with the purchase of a loaf of bread requiring millions of Zimbabwean dollars, hunger and disease abound in the wake of the recent cholera outbreak. There are all the secondary effects of a stagnant, fraudulent political and economic system to consider too – broken infrastructure, civil violence, and a lack of basic healthcare – leading to a situation that has escalated wildly out of control. The present day conditions, with their genesis in decades of Mugabe’s dictatorship and in his corrupt fraternity of relatives and old allies, are the consequences of a vast political circus in which millions of Zimbabweans have become unwilling puppets. Rising poverty, political disenchantment – these have been the bleak stories relentlessly chronicled on every news page, blog, and web site for the past year. These, however, are not the crises of Zimbabwe, or another stricken faraway state, but of some of the most prosperous countries in the world. With Britain and the US at the forefront, the credit crunch dominated the media during the end of 2008; this year, as the recession deepens, news coverage looks set to be much more of the same. The Western financial meltdown, with its alarmingly frequent vicissitudes, has prompted a flurry of investigations and news reports, with other world news inevitably falling by the wayside in terms of media coverage. This is to be in some ways expected; this domestic concern is of high relevance to our Western reading public. Yet with this comes a unique new set of consequences for all those who rely on the media to raise the alarm when abuses of status and power manifest themselves, and questions as to whether the media bears a responsibility towards those dispossessed of a voice; foreign or domestic. The significance of the relationship between The Times, or the tabloid press, even the very magazine you’re holding in your hands, and the citizens currently battling grave circumstances in Zimbabwe has now become in urgent need of discussion.

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Put simply, when considering the lack of press coverage given to those trapped under Mugabe’s suffocating regime, questions arise as to whether the media has implicated itself in the devastating consequences of a humanitarian crisis. It is a problem that MSF have been attempting to highlight since 1998, when its Top 10 Humanitarian Crises list was first released to the world media. That year’s list was prompted by a massive famine in Southern Sudan, which was barely covered by the Western press. This year, the charity’s International Council President, Dr Christophe Fournier, claimed that “We [the media] have a special responsibility to bear witness and speak out about intolerable suffering”. ‘Responsibility to bear witness’ is the key phrase here. If the media is to accept Fournier’s definition of the requirements of the press, then it has to acknowledge that the press, TV, radio, all can no longer be objective bystanders, or at least not be recognised as such. Reports and literature on media responsibility are few and far between, but a recent conference organised by the College of Mass Communication at the University of the Philippines argued that, “With profit being the ‘bottom line’ of the efforts of the media industry, reportage becomes ‘events-based’ … media is influenced by business interests”. In a rapidly freefalling financial climate, where money issues drive what makes the final edit or first edition, questions of who or what the media should stand for – if anything – will inevitably take the backburner. Ironically, it is the declining Western economy that is selling newspapers at the moment. Arguably, humanitarian crises have never been something that makes your average Briton buy a newspaper or log onto a blog, but it would appear that a journalistic culture of wishing to actively expose such wrongdoings in the mass press, and a cultural appetite for such information, is on the wane. This is not to say that the media are wholly culpable: it would be short-sighted to blame Zimbabwe’s current situation solely upon the Western media, or on the fickle nature of an entertainment-driven, information-overloaded public. Amongst the myriad forces influencing what brings an issue to prominence, one cannot overlook the pressures that the media faces, both local and foreign, in reporting volatile information. Last year’s Beijing Olympics and China’s dubious history of freedom of speech is a case

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in point, and a clear example of the risks inherent in speaking out. There, rights activist Hu Jia was imprisoned whilst his wife and baby were held under house arrest as a result of his criticism of China’s human rights record in the weeks leading up to the Games. As a result, this January Jia received the European Parliament’s Sakharov Prize, its highest accolade for defence of freedom of thought. The prize and the press coverage which ensued will be of little consolation to Jia, however, when such attention during the early stages of his arrest may have deterred the Chinese government from taking such drastic action during a time of intense public interest – Jia is now serving a jail term for inciting subversion of state power. For the news organisations that are heaping praise upon him (the BBC amongst them), to have defended him during the Games would have almost certainly have led to a ban from the Olympics. Major news organisations are obliged to tread a fine line, deciding whether the news that is happening today, if reported, will cause a block on access to the information that will need to be reported a few days, months or years down the line – with Jia one of the countless victims of such precarious balancing acts. So for the individual journalist and the news organisations, comes the decision whether it is worth facing the dangers of reporting in strife-ridden areas such as Zimbabwe. Reporters Without Borders (RWB) claim that 60 journalists were confirmed killed worldwide in 2008, with a further 673 arrests and 29 kidnappings. RWB cite Zimbabwe as one of the lowest countries on their ‘press freedom’ index (# 151 out of 173 countries on the list), writing that “being a journalist [in Zimbabwe] is a high risk exercise involving endless frustration and constant police and judicial harassment”. When this kind of behaviour is enough to keep the giant news conglomerates away from the country, one can easily imagine why local media are unwilling to air grievances – they live in wholly legitimate fear of violent retribution if the regime is criticised. Local journalist and activist Jestina Mukoko was kidnapped, imprisoned and tortured in December 2008 and faces the death sentence for her leadership of the Zimbabwe Peace Project,

a human rights organisation. Such projects and alternative media sources are lucky to reach publication at all – the Zimbabwean government’s much-feared Media and Information Commission (MIC) have so far managed to shut down most independently-run newspapers and magazines and has the authority to issue (and therefore, for the most part, refuse) journalism accreditations and newspaper licenses. All of which paints a desolate picture for the future of free press movement within the country, a future that will be fighting an uphill battle against a government dedicated to suppressing speech, developed nations with their own issues to struggle with, and a history of violence against journalists who oppose the government’s regime. The answer to several decades worth of stifled press in Zimbabwe, and a Western media which is currently trying to make sense of, and contend with its own crises? The solution, as ever, cannot be a simple one. The freedom of the press to report on what it chooses is paramount, and so imposing regulations upon what should and should not be published can only prove detrimental. Reports and guidelines such as those published by MSF have done little to improve media coverage of developing nations, but hopefully the continued support of organisations and charities for journalists will help assuage the fear of becoming embroiled in the reporting of highly dangerous and radically politicised countries such as Zimbabwe. Perhaps the most effective method of easing the pressure upon the media would be the galvanisation of the Western world’s governments, to publicly condemn the suffocation of press voices. During his election campaign, Barack Obama stated “the United States and the international community must be united, clear and unequivocal: the government of Zimbabwe is illegitimate and lacks any credibility”. Now president, we can only hope that Obama makes good on his promise to raise awareness of the deplorable situation Zimbabweans find themselves at the mercy of on a daily basis. The issue of media responsibility in a media-driven world is a complex one, but this cannot mean that it is to be ignored. Zimbabwe is just one of many countries whose voices have been suppressed. The onus is now on those who can talk, to start talking.

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The Dark Heart

of Africa

by AYO ALLI

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There is a crisis in the Democratic Republic of Congo. This large and extremely natural, resource rich country is pretty much the stereotype for the western perception of Africa as a continent full of ‘basket case’ countries. It also holds a special place in the popular imagination, being the setting of Joseph Conrad’s classic semiautobiographical book, Heart of Darkness – the tale of a white man’s journey up the great Congo River into the heart of Africa and the darkness in man’s soul Actually, crisis is pretty much the constant state of affairs in Congo. If you’re a country whose greatest period of stability – for want of a better word – was under ‘President The All Powerful Warrior’ who, because of his endurance and inflexible will to win, goes from conquest to conquest, leaving fire in his wake – then you know you’re really screwed. President Mobutu Sese Seko Nkuku Ngbendu Wa Za Banga ruled DRC (Republic of Congo, then Zaire – as it was then known) for 32 years. His rule is what academics hold up as the perfect example of a ‘kleptocracy’ – a state whose political dispensation is set up for a small elite to steal everything of value. Not that Mobutu was the worst ruler Congo had, or even really invented the ‘kleptocracy’. That dubious honour goes to King Leopold II of Belgium. The conference on Africa he hosted in Brussels in the 1870s, marked the beginning of the real scramble by European countries for African territory that was formalised in Berlin in 1885. In fact, the reason he held (and paid for) the conference was to get a piece. The big distinction though, was that while other European countries had colonies, what is now DRC was mostly Leopold’s private domain; with another bit that now forms parts of Rwanda and Burundi, known as the Congo Free State, administered by the Belgian government. They say, ‘behind every great is a crime’. In some cases there are several – and crime barely comes close to a proper description where Congo is concerned. Leopold’s Congo was a grim and wretched place – if you were African. For a lot of the young Belgians who worked out there for the King, it was a place where fortunes were made. The explorer, Sir Henry Morton Stanley (of, “Doctor Livingstone, I presume!” fame) was the first Administrator for Leopold. The policies of Leopold’s kleptocracy were even grimmer than Mobutu’s. Africans had their hands cut off as a matter of routine – as a punishment; to make them work harder and meet quotas, or, sometimes just for the heck of it. A lot of the great fortunes, and the capital to invest and grow some of the banks and industries of Belgium and Holland, have their roots in Leopold’s Congo. Between 1885 and 1908 (when it stopped being his private dominion) it is estimated that 10-15 million Africans had been killed. After the international outrage caused by the articles of E. D. Morel, the woman who pioneered investigative journalism about Leopold’s Congo, administration was taken over by the Belgian state. Not that this was a significant improvement. When the Belgians left in 1960 less than five percent of the population was literate. Then Belgians and western commercial interests stoked ethnic tensions to counterbalance what they saw as the communist tendencies of Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba, who sought technical assistance from the Soviet Union. When the province of Katanga seceded, they backed the army (Belgium even deployed troops), led by Mobutu to remove Lumumba from power, and eventually murdered him. After almost five years of instability, Mobutu eventually became president in 1965. Mobutu remained a western favourite to bulwark against the spread of communism in Africa, particularly after the Cubans got involved in the Angolan civil war in the 1970s.

The current crisis has its roots in the past. The fall of the USSR changed the necessity of western backing for Mobutu. He, like the Belgians before him, used ethnicity as a divide and rule tactic. The colonial borders ignored the fact that two particular ethnic groups – the Hutus and the Tutsis – are also large groups in both Rwanda and Burundi. This has had dire consequences for the stability of that region. In 1996 Mobutu backed the Hutus (who had largely carried out the genocide in Rwanda in 1994) against the Tutsis (largely the victims of the genocide). He had allowed Congo to be a refuge for the Hutu Interahamwe militia (a charming bunch whose name means ‘they who kill together’) to launch raids against Tutsi governed Rwanda. He ordered all Tutsi to be expelled from Congo on pain of death. This was a big mistake. The Tutsi regime of Paul Kigame, whose battle-hardened troops had fought across Rwanda from Uganda in the East and expelled the Interahamwe, promptly backed Laurent Kabila’s AFDL on the battlefield. As the AFDL marched into Kinshasa, Mobutu fled into exile. The situation in the country has been pretty dire since Mobutu’s fall. A three-way civil conflict ensued involving – directly and by proxy – Rwanda and Uganda (against the Kabila government) and Angola, Zimbabwe and Namibia (for the Kabila government). Kabila was assassinated in 2001, and his son, Joseph, became president. He called for all party talks and a transition to multi-party democracy. A UN peacekeeping force was deployed, and elections were held, which Kabila JR ostensibly won. The conflict, however, has simmered away with a plethora of armed groups fighting all over the country. In a shameful indictment on the UN and the international community, it’s estimated that six million people have died in this war this century. There is a serious irony here. DRC is seriously blessed (or cursed) with abundant valuable natural resources. It has huge amounts of diamonds, cobalt, titanium, uranium, timber, gold, aluminium, copper and other valuable commodities. For instance, DRC is by far the world’s biggest source of Coltan, the ore of titanium that is crucial for making mobile phones, amongst other things. Despite the conflict (or perhaps because of it) a cheap steady source of Coltan is available for your latest i-phone, Blackberry, or Nokia. A further complication to the conflict is the growing Chinese presence in DRC. Laurent Nkunda – an ethnic Tutsi Congolese warlord – when launching his latest offensive cited a recent deal between the government and China to exchange infrastructure development for mineral rights as a causus belli. A cynic might argue that it’s in western interests to keep DRC fragile. A weak state makes it possible to extract resources cheaply (no taxes and no red tape). There are the usual images of fleeing refugees on our televisions intercut with the usual platitudes from the politicians about the need to do something. However, when western interests were seriously threatened by the Cubans (and hence their Soviet masters) from Angola in 1977/78, the French and the Belgians deployed troops with US logistical and political support. Truly there is darkness in the heart of Africa. And today, like the common error that’s made about Heart of Darkness, there is a misconception of where the darkness is. It’s in all our hearts.

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AFRICAN ARENAS 1999 to 2009 by Thomas Hoeffgen

The rough, dusty arenas of African suburban soccer, on the eve of the 21st century, are a great distance in time and facade from the lush green lawns of the 19th century’s aristocratic English football. These two worlds collide in Hoeffgen’s latest project, demonstrating how the fascination with this game transcends the fashions of age and culture. The African Arenas project seeks to portray today’s Africa through the lens of some of its urban, suburban, and middle-of-the-desert soccer fields: contrasting between two sticks rammed into a mud field to the high-rising light shafts of major league stadiums. His aesthetic precision is combined with a meditation on the variety of places, spaces and the vast range of people by whom soccer is being played. It is a vibrant portrait of a whole continent’s love of soccer and a tribute to its ability to nurture some of the world’s finest players. Thomas Hoeffgen’s pictures aim not only to show the soccer fields and their occupants, but also the often surprising contexts in which they are located. Just outside a township or close underneath a highway bridge, the nature of the game allows more or less informal arenas to arise virtually out of any street corner. For a few talented youngsters, social mobility can come about thanks to the love of the ball – shifting suddenly from bare feet to Adidas shoes. This epic portrait of Africa’s love of the game is based on a former soccer story Hoeffgen shot in Nigeria in 1999. In the final version, the emphasis will be on the principal soccer nations: East Congo, Zimbabwe, Ivory Coast, Namibia, Ghana, Nigeria, Senegal, Egypt, South Africa, Cameroon, Rwanda and Angola: with a focus on players, training environments and landscapes.

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Burberry – www.burberry.com

Lanvin – www.lanvin.com

Stella McCartney for Adidas – www.adidas.com

Burton Snowboards – www.Burton.com

Laura Mercier – www.lauramercier.com

Ted Baker +44 (0) 208 970 6202

Byrce D’Anice Aime +44 (0)207 313 9935

Leon Paul – www.leonpaul.com

The Local Firm – www.thelocalfirm.com

Chanel – www.chanel.com

Levi’s – www.levistrauss.com

Velour – www.velour.se

CREATIVE RECREATION – www.oki-ni.com

Linda Farrow by Raf Simons – www.oki-ni.com

Versace – www.versace.com

Diana Von Furstenberg + 44 (0) 207 499 0886

LOUIS VUITTON – www.louisvuitton.com

Vivienne Westwood – www.my-wardrobe.com

Dunhill – www.dunhill.com

Marlboro Classics – www.trumpsfashion.nl

Whyred – www.whyred.com

Eton – www.etonshirts.com

Mawi – www.mawi.co.uk

Won Hundred – www.wonhundred.com

Eye Company– www.eye-company.co.uk

McQ Alexander McQueen – www.my-wardrobe.com

Z Zegna – www.zzegna.com

Ferarri – www.eye-company.co.uk

Microsoft – www.microsoft.com

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