The luxury label's sunlit show at the Louvre nodded to its heritage with classic leather bags and reflected the new designer's experimental side with avant-garde, feminine cocktail dresses
The autumn/winter 2014 catwalk season ended today with the show everyone had been waiting for, as Nicolas Ghesquière closed Paris fashion week with his first collection for Louis Vuitton. Ghesquiere is one of the most revered, talented and innovative designers of his generation; Louis Vuitton is the world's biggest luxury brand. From both commercial and aesthetic perspectives this catwalk show was a hugely significant moment for contemporary fashion. And with Ghesquière stepping into the role previously held by Marc Jacobs, one of the great showmen of modern fashion, it was taken for granted that nothing less than a grand, theatrical debut would do.
In the event, instead of pyrotechnics, we got sunshine. Quite literally: after guests had taken their seats in a dimly lit marquee erected in an internal courtyard of the Louvre, the chrome slats lining the walls opened like Venetian blinds, allowing natural light to flood. It was a neat, palate-cleansing contrast with recent shows by Jacobs for Vuitton, which were held in the exact same spot, but whose marquees contained complicated secret worlds: a stage set of a hotel corridor one season, station platforms with models alighting from trains another.
Everything about the presentation was happy, fresh and upbeat. Ghesquière seemed at pains to move on from the image that settled on him, during his years at Balenciaga, as a tortured genius creating clothes of savage beauty which only the bold would dare wear. That image was underscored, in the years since he left Balenciaga, by an ongoing dispute with his ex-employers, which will play out in a Paris court in four months' time. A letter was left on every seat, signed simply and informally from "Nicolas" and printed in a typewriter-style font, evoking a personal note rather than a business memo. "Today is a new day," it began. It expressed first the designer's "immense joy" on the occasion, and made warm mention of Jacobs, "whose legacy I wholeheartedly hope to honour." Tellingly, and highly unusually for a communiqué from a luxury powerhouse, the word "brand" did not appear once, with Ghesquière referring instead to "the Louis Vuitton philosophy". The natural light, the classically Parisian setting, the framing of the label as a home of great designers rather than as a brand: all these made a strong statement that Ghesquière's Louis Vuitton will hope to embody warmth and bring pride to French fashion. It is not incidental that Ghesquière's appointment has broken a run of plum design roles being awarded to foreign designers.
After the setting, came the clothes. Or rather, the bags, and the clothes worn by the models who carry them. Clothing accounts for only five per cent of Louis Vuitton sales, and even less of its profits, with leather goods alone accounting for 90%. The huge publicity generated by Jacobs' extraordinary catwalk outfits was channelled into generating desire not for the clothes themselves but for the more profitable handbags, wallets and suitcases. Analysts are watching with interest to see whether Ghesquière will try to raise the profile of ready-to-wear at Louis Vuitton as he did at Balenciaga, where the commercial success of It bags such as the Lariat was complemented by critical acclaim for clothes influential silhouettes and colours.
Ghesquière's first Vuitton bags were highly commercial. A cute miniature version of an old-fashioned suitcase, referring to Vuitton's heritage as a luggage label, was the key style for the season, appearing multiple times on the catwalk. The same style of bag also appeared worn in the front row, on the arm of Delphine Arnault, daughter of Bernard and second-in-command at Vuitton, and the supermodel Natalia Vodianova, who is engaged to Delphine's brother Antoine Arnault. Other tried-and-tested Vuitton shapes were prominent, including the cylindrical "Speedy", now with the Ghesquière touch of a futuristic prism print, and a scaled-down weekend holdall in panels of monogrammed and patent leather. Ghesquière has said of his time at Balenciaga that, contrary to the impression of him as an ivory-tower designer, "right from the start I wanted it to be commercial". At Vuitton, he appears to have the same plan.
But when it came to the clothes – traditionally more of a strong point for the designer rather than Vuitton - Ghesquiere's Vuitton started to look more experimental and interesting. Leather featured heavily, linking the clothes to the bags, but there was an abundance of cracked patent leather, rather than the more obviously luxurious soft version. An artificially raised waistline, and jackets with chunky square collars reminiscent of 1960s car salesmen also brought a frisson of oddness to the collection. Silk-and-leather, panelled-and-zippered cocktail dresses were a delight, avant-garde in their conception but executed with a light and feminine touch. In the front row, three generations of Boulevard Saint Germain style aristocracy – Catherine Deneuve and daughter Chiara Mastroianni, Charlotte Gainsbourg and her toddler daughter Joe - applauded these warmly.
Backstage after the show, the mood was positively joyous. A throng of well-wishers surrounded Ghesquière as he posed for photographs with Delphine Arnault, who was key in hiring him and with whom he is said to have a strong relationship. Ghesquière has said of Balenciaga that "I never had a [business] partner, and I ended up feeling too alone." At Vuitton, he is doing everything he can to set the stage for happiness.
Shrimps – a tiny label selling brightly coloured faux fur – stood out at the autumn/winter 2014 fashion weeks, despite not having a show. Its secret? Coats that it is impossible to feel grumpy in
From fashion editors shoplifting at Chanel to Christopher Kane’s best show ever and clean, classy lines at Victoria Beckham, our critics pick the best autumn/winter 2014 catwalk moments
'You want clean lines and a pretty colour – a coat that almost thinks it's a dress'
Spring is a tantalising concept long, long before it blooms into reality. Every year without fail, it gets to March and we're all like, OMG, it's not pitch black at teatime any more! I took my gloves off and didn't get frostbite! Let's have a picnic! And – maybe this is just me, because I am in fashion and therefore shallow, but I don't think so – by this time of year I really hate my winter coat, however much I loved it back in September. No offence. I am just over it.
Add the recent meteorological evidence that an increasingly unpredictable climate may soon throw centuries of vest-wearing wisdom out of the window, and the answer – to the what-to-wear part of this problem, I'm afraid: I haven't cracked the climate change stuff – is surely to make your first spring purchase one that rings the changes, without exposing you to the elements.
In other words, you need a spring coat. The good news is that there is no shortage of choice. The fashion industry has its faults, but climate change denial is not one. Right now, the number one must-have piece being promoted on the catwalk – not just in London, but in New York and Paris as well – is a coat.
Traditionally, this is the time of year when you switch into a shorter jacket, but this spring's most fashionable top layers are definitely coats. (There is also a humdrum retail-schedule reason, which is that the concept of a spring/summer collection is outdated now that The Customer Desires Newness is the industry's Lord's prayer and what used to be a spring/summer collection is now a spring collection, with new stock arriving in June.)
The spring coat needs to be a contrast to your winter coat. Less warm, obviously, and more upbeat and carefree: you don't want hoods, or lots of hardware on the fastenings, or bulky pockets. You want clean lines and a pretty colour: a coat that almost thinks it's a dress is what you are looking for. And you want to suggest skin, without necessarily showing it, so choose a shade that's a bit blush or nude, or push the sleeves up to your elbow, or wear it open, or something. But not too open; you don't want to catch cold. It's just fashion, kids – it's not actually spring.
The big French luxury fashion conglomerates have been making unprecedented investment in young UK designers lately, and no wonder – the current crop of British talent is some of the most forward-looking anywhere in the world
Starting at the stately headquarters of Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy, it is just a short and scenic Paris stroll – taking in the Champs Elysées, a view of the Arc de Triomphe, a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower – to the equally imposing offices of that rival giant of luxury fashion, Kering, home to Gucci, Saint Laurent and Stella McCartney. Last year, each of these conglomerates announced that it was committing to a serious investment in a young fashion designer: a strategic move that had been out of favour in the investment community for more than a decade. LVMH took a minority stake in 29-year-old wonderkid JW Anderson; Kering a majority one in 31-year-old Christopher Kane.
A Eurostar hop away, the studios of Kane and Anderson are just two blocks apart on the very same scruffy road in Dalston, east London. This is more than a coincidence: it is a mapping of the dynamic at work in global fashion. Paris, the long-established nerve centre of fashion-as-a-business, is right now tapping directly into the rich vein of fashion talent that runs through London. The buzz around London fashion week for the past few years has finally transformed into something more tangible. Nicholas Kirkwood, who reigns as British Accessory Designer of the Year, sold a majority stake in his business to LVMH in September. And the most recent spin of the fashion merry-go-round saw veteran British design talent shuffled higher in the pack across the Atlantic, where Stuart Vevers – alumnus of Mulberry, Bottega Veneta and Loewe– has taken the helm of Coach, and Katie Hillier has lured Luella Bartley out of a four-year fashion hiatus to join her at Marc by Marc Jacobs.
Suzy Menkes – who has just been appointed international editor of Vogue – was style editor of the International Herald Tribune, now the International New York Times, since 1988, playing a crucial role as scout and champion in the careers of many British fashion designers. It is, says Menkes, "the dynamism of London and its international status as the New York of Europe that makes the fashion scene here so energetic. There is so much money sloshing about in central London that it has spilled over to where the designers work, in Dalston and Mile End."
Lulu Kennedy, who as founder of Fashion East has held the hands of many talented young British designers along the nursery slopes of their careers, also sees a fearlessness and ebullience about the scene at the moment.
"A couple of weeks before London fashion week I was at a friend's house for dinner and lots of the designers were there, and they were all talking quite openly about their ideas and references. There's a confidence, a belief that there is plenty of talent, plenty of ideas to go around. I find it really inspiring."
What makes British talent compelling to international business, says Kennedy, is that "whereas French ideas about fashion are based around history and traditional notions of chic, the British take is about the future, about what we want to see next. Phoebe Philo has been a game-changer for the whole industry by addressing femininity and modernity, opening up a wider discussion about women's lives that reaches beyond fashion."
Paula Reed has recently joined Munich-based international retailer MyTheresa.com as creative director, having previously worked in London at Grazia magazine and Harvey Nichols. "The modern fashion shopper is addicted to 'newness' and London delivers that in spades," she says. "It's the pure energy of the city. Now that I work abroad, it strikes me every time I come home how vibrant and unique the atmosphere is here. There is a cultural eclecticism that underpins everything we do."
It is telling that the current generation of hot British designers differs from their forefathers in the McQueen and Galliano era by being far less likely to set their collections in the past. History book references, once considered de rigueur for adding gravitas and culture to a collection, have fallen out of favour. Galliano's 1984 graduation collection, Les Incroyables, was inspired by the French revolution; McQueen entitled his 1992 MA collection Jack the Ripper Stalks His Victims; three years later his infamous Highland Rape collection was based on the historical English slaughter of Scots. These lyrical, storytelling collections have disappeared in favour of personal stories and abstract references that keep a brand feeling constantly modern.
Also falling out of favour on the catwalk, notes Menkes, is "the squiffy, jokey, ironic aspect of Britishness. Burberry has some of those elements, but they seem rather carefully introduced to pepper up the plain".
What's more, this shift is based on sound business sense in the age of the brand. "Young designers today are much more aware of the concept of brand-building," Menkes says.
Jonathan Anderson named his label JW Anderson because from the beginning he was clear that "it wasn't just about me, it was about a brand," he has said. He was just 26 when he created his first diffusion collection for Topshop, but he pushed the limits of what was expected: as well as clothes, he produced logo-ed scarves, pens and sweeties in a deliberate strategy to offer the JW Anderson name at pocket-money prices.
Anderson's studio is "so, so different" from the early days of McQueen, Menkes says. "My earliest memory of Lee at the same age is of a chaotic room with bits of frayed cloth and stuff all over the floor and him sitting on a rickety chair effing and blinding over the fit of a jacket shoulder."
The new generation of hot young things is more likely to be found sweating over how that shoulder speaks to their brand values or plays to the house codes.
"Each designer approaches collections in their own way and it is hard to have a generalist view of the contemporary scene," Caroline Rush, chief executive of the British Fashion Council, says, "but there is certainly an awareness of the importance of defining what a brand will stand for very early on."
For the past decade the BFC has worked hard to secure and bolster the businesses of emerging designers. There is a deep desire not to repeat the mistakes of previous eras, in which wave after wave of talented young innocents were vaulted out of the safety of the college system into an industry for which they were unprepared, only to be felled at the first hurdle by their lack of financial acumen, or absence of manufacturing contacts or industry muscle.
"A great deal of business support goes on behind the scenes," Rush says. "There is now a safety net around designers so that they can learn about the nuts and bolts of the business. The industry has come together to create a mentoring environment."
What's more, Rush says, the digital age has altered the fashion industry, giving greater visibility to the less commercially mighty brands; to the benefit of London's new generation.
"Social media allows you to create a lot of noise around a collection without an advertising spend, and that is really being exploited by this generation of young creatives."
The next challenge, Rush says, is for the new wave to seize more control over the business side of their industry. "The luxury investments we saw last year are just the beginning. They have sparked a great deal of interest from the investment community. This is great news for our designers. But the real hunt now is for the next generation of homegrown CEOs."
It's not about logos, it's about ideas – from Susan Sontag to the Flamin' Groovies, slogans on T shirts and sweaters are back, and this time they're really saying something, says Jess Cartner-Morley
This is no common-or-garden spring. This season's It girls demand to be seen and heard. The buzzword is freedom: freedom of movement, freedom of expression. The new spoken-word fashion is not to be confused with logomania – this is about your brain, not your brand. At entry level, anything in French will look chic. Then move on to an obtuse phrase that will invite double takes, such as the Against Interpretation – Susan Sontag sweater. Finally, graduate to the must-reads: a word or phrase commandeered by a smart brand. Sibling's Lead Sister knit is cute, but the star is Christopher Kane's Petal sweater. Saying it with flowers has never been so snappy.
Leap into a fashionable spring with these excellent transitional pieces for those weeks when the weather can't make its mind up
1 The non-flirt skirt
Cool girls don't roll their skirts up these days, they tug them down. The first thing you need to get your head around in order to have a fashionable spring is that the clothes aren't sexy. You, as in the actual person, are of course still radiant with irresistible natural sex appeal, but a fashionable wardrobe is not a flirty one right now. Cleavage has been over for ages, and now it's time to put your legs away, too. The alpha hemline is a good 2in below the knee. Think of the midi skirt as a replacement for the cocktail trouser, and make it fancy. The Whistles Ellie Colour Block skirt was getting a lot of frow love at the shows. This is an excellent transitional piece teamed with ankle boots for those weeks when the weather can't make its mind up.
2 The bomber jacket
To be honest, you could run into any high-street store, find a bomber jacket within two metres of the entrance, buy it, go home and you'd be passably on trend for the entire season. This is the Betty Crocker Cake Mix of Spring 2014: instant gratification for next-to-no effort. What are you waiting for? Possibly, you are saving up for the Jonathan Saunders Real Thing Holy Grail, in which case good on you and bon appetit for those packed lunches. But you will be spoilt for choice on the high street: look for colour, texture, something more fashion than straight-up sportswear. And most importantly, wear it right: not with jeans, but to add jazziness to your midi-skirt (see above) and as the season's coolest party-dress cover-up.
3 The 90s slip dress
The spaghetti strap is back. Flimsy, nightie-weight dresses are this summer's new take on a 90s revival that seems to have been going on for longer than the actual decade. Kate Moss in the Johnny Depp years is your style reference here. Warm up by swapping the cotton tanks you wore under jackets for lace-edged silk camisoles peeking out from the aforementioned bomber jacket. When you've got the courage (read: fake tan) for a dress, add a pale duster coat for this season's alpha wedding-guest look.
4 Duster coat
If you like, you can think about your new look like this: nothing should end at bum-length any more (unless you are deliberately channelling Normcore, that is). Your jackets and sweaters should either be cropped to the waist, or extending down at least to the upper thigh. The hipbone-to-bottom hemline – ie the place where normal tops end – is for the masses. A duster coat was originally a loose, long-ish light worn over your nice clothes to protect them from dirt-road dust while on a horse or open-top car, a function that is still useful on public transport. A practical spring (and summer evening) option, and so much grander than a blazer.
5 The useful bag
In the heat of the It bag wars, the notion of practicality got lost. Trophy bags became an end in themselves, and we forgot that bags are supposed to be for carrying stuff in, not just for carrying. The popularity of the cross-body bag proved the eternal appeal of bags that don't give you backache – funny, that – but the trouble with the cross-body is that small versions look great, but a huge cross-body bag looks as if you are selling the local paper. Finally, Karl himself has come to the rescue, putting the rucksack back on the Chanel catwalk, and therefore back on to every high-street shop floor.
6. The slouch trouser
Here's the way to spot a this-season trouser shape: it will work with pool slider sandals. Doesn't matter if you're not going to wear pool sliders – I'm definitely not, are you insane? – the trousers (slouchy, but fancy) that work with them are the ones you need now. The bright, cropped cocktail trouser is no longer on the fashion frontline. It's now more of a Sunday-cinema-outing look than a Saturday-night special. (Skinny jeans and pointy courts, by the way, which until recently was a fall-back chic combination, eg for travelling on Eurostar to the Paris shows, is now irredeemably Chiswick wine bar.)
7. The grown-up crop top
Don't panic. No one is suggesting actual abdomen is bared here. Well, actually, lots of fashion pages are, but we are not, which is just one reason why you would do well to stick with us. The mature take on the crop top is a shirt or sweater that is lopped off at the waist. You don't want a cinched waistband: you want the effect of a longer top from which you have sliced off the bottom few inches. Wear with your slouch trousers, or your non-flirt skirt. The Autograph Polo Neck Textured Cropped Jumper from M&S was an understated staple of many a fashion-week wardrobe.
8. Challenging flat shoes
Do not be seen dead in ballet pumps. Sorry. Just because flats are now more alpha than heels, do not assume anything goes, because nothing could be further from the truth. This season's flat shoes are aesthetically challenging. The pool slider sandal is the ultimate in style points, while the new era of hi-tops and trainers are crucially wedge-free. (Even Isabel Marant has pronounced herself over the wedge.) Dress for attitude and walking speed, and learn to love your chunky calves.
To be on-trend these days, you ought to be wearing a white shirt as casually as you would a T-shirt. Here's why…
A white shirt is a timeless and egalitarian piece, but all white shirts are not created equal. This has nothing to do with the price tag or label, and everything to do with how the shirt behaves. Right now, the way to spot an alpha white shirt is this: it thinks it is a white T-shirt.
Teensy bit surreal, yes. But, no, I haven't totally lost the plot. Bear with me, because there is an issue at stake here that affects your everyday, useful, real-life wardrobe. Promise. The white shirt has for some years occupied that sweet spot of being both an unimpeachable classic and a right-for-now trend piece. This is a notable achievement, because mostly fashion throws up a trend and people like me make a massive song and dance about it for maybe five days and then forget all about it. But just occasionally a look comes along that hangs on in there, doggedly, for ever. Skinny jeans, for instance. And the new skinny jean is the buttoned-up white shirt, which seems to have featured in just about every other fashion shoot or advertising campaign for the past four years.
But this is still fashion, so the way the white shirt is worn is constantly evolving. For a long time, the smart way to wear the white shirt was as part of a starched, stiff look: proud and unadorned, with dark tailoring. That look was about reclaiming the white shirt from the tie-wearers. It was a look that said: I am not without a tie because I am scruffy or lowly, I am without a tie because, while businesslike, I am also hip and modern. In other words: I win.
That still works. But at the most recent round of fashion shows, there was a new type of white shirt: the white shirt that thinks it's a T-shirt. So, this white shirt is worn casually with jeans and flat shoes, or under a loose trench, or with one of the new long, loose midi skirts. The point you are making with these ensembles is that the wearing of the crisp, buttoned-up white shirt has become such second nature to you that you now throw it on as casually as you would a T-shirt. Of course, casual doesn't really come into it. Fashion is a serious business. All white shirts are created equal, but you have to wear it right to win.
A long top worn over simple bottoms is a combination rarely seen in the office. Jess Cartner-Morley shows how the tunic can be worn for a dress-up occasion
'Something odd is happening. The Properly Off-Duty silhouette has been co-opted by the fashionables'
Many of us don't really have separate work and leisure wardrobes any more. I know I don't. I have clothes pitched at various degrees of snazziness that might come into play on a Tuesday or a Saturday, depending on what the day holds. There are the clothes I wear because I am aiming to look professional, purposeful and smart, and clothes I wear to look nice, because I believe in looking nice when doing nice things with nice people. And often these are the same clothes.
The exception is the Properly Off-Duty wardrobe. This is what you wear for that no man's land of errands that lies between work and fun: queueing at the post office, returning clothes that don't fit, ferrying kids to swimming lessons. The funny thing is that while everyone's snazzy clothes are different, many Properly Off-Duty clothes are very similar. It's like dressing to be a stagehand: people can see you are there, but they know you're dressed for practicality, not aesthetics, so the rules are different.
The Properly Off-Duty wardrobe of many women has a distinctive silhouette: a longline, often shapeless top over practical, nondescript trousers. This is a look you see every day. It is the woman on the school run with a long cardigan pulled over her running trousers so as not to display her arse to the playground before her 8.45am run. It is the girl shopping on a Saturday in leggings, a long T-shirt and wedge trainers.
But something odd is happening. The Properly Off-Duty silhouette has been co-opted by the fashionables. The tunic-shaped top over narrow trousers (or, for the style hardcore, a long skirt) is no longer just a look that means you can pick a toddler out of the sandpit without draughty bits, it can do smart as well.
Obviously, if you are doing the new snazzy version, you need to up your game. Posh fabrics and colour palettes are in; stuff you wear because it's comfy and shades chosen because they don't show the dirt are out. But silhouette is always the trickiest part of a new look, and here's one we've mastered without even knowing it. The no-brainer wardrobe is now a look that can mean business. Or fun, come to that.
Lupita Nyongo chose Prada, Jennifer Lawrence fell over in her Dior gown (again) and Pharrell Williams wore shorts. The Guardian fashion team bring you the stars Oscar looks hot from the red carpet in LA with commentary and pictures
So that was the 2014 Oscars. We were liveblogging all evening, guiding you along the red carpet, then through the ceremony. See how the night unfolded below
Its over, its over, its finally over. What began on the sticky, bloody red carpet culminated - possibly five hours, conceivably five days - later with a last gasp victory for 12 Years a Slave, a sudden turnabout to dent the otherwise impregnable Gravity.
Was it dramatic? Well, it was and it wasnt. On the one hand the big awards went exactly the way that most people (myself included) had predicted. On the other, the march of Gravity became so thunderous, so all-encompassing that it became increasingly hard to believe that it would not crown its Oscar haul with the biggest prize of them all.
Everyone deserves not just to survive but to live, director Steve McQueen tells the world. This is the legacy of Solomon Northup. He thanks his mother, who is sitting far away, at the back of the hall. She gets to her feet and waves at him wildly; a tiny figure in the distance, utterly heartbreaking and beautiful even at 500 paces.
McQueen grabs the Oscar and then jumps up and down. Hes jumping like a jackrabbit. He has just taken flight.
It could have been Dern, or Ejiofor, or DiCaprio, or Bale. But instead the best actor Oscar goes where everyone always said it would - right into the hands of Matthew McConaughey for his brilliantly robust and committed performance in Dallas Buyers Club.
His grin is as wide as the Rio Grande. He thanks God. He thanks his dad who liked gumbo and who taught him how to be a man and then for good measure he thanks his momma too. He finishes in a ramble by thanking himself - or at least the version of himself that is always ten years in the future and who he is forever trying to catch. Amen, he says. Alright, alright, alright.
All night long the evidence pointed in only one direction. Gravity kept amassing the spoils, shutting its rivals right out in the cold. By the end it seemed all over bar the shouting. Gravity would go on to take the crowning best film Oscar.
No sooner has Blanchett left the stage, than on comes Jennifer Lawrence to hand out the best actor award.
Say hello and wave goodbye to this years contenders.
Up comes Cate Blanchett. She pays tribute for Hollywood for making films that feature strong women and trust those films to make money. She thanks her husband and her publicist and a whole heap of others (every single member of the Sydney theatre company). She thanks her fellow nominees and she thanks writer-director Woody Allen, though she does not stoop to comment on the Controversy that has returned to snap at his heels in recent weeks. Maybe she will in the press conference; maybe she never will.
Daniel Day Lewis strolls to the podium to announce the nominees for the best actress Oscar. He looks utterly delighted to be here. Hes positively beaming. If we didnt know better wed swear hed had an O-shot.
And the nominees for best actress are ...
Gravity hits seventh heaven at the 86th Oscars as Mexicos Alfonso Cuarón takes the prize for best direction. Hes the first Latino to ever take the Oscar directing and his speech slaloms neatly between Spanish and English. Cuarón, it should be noted, has lived in London for the past 13 years.
For many of us making this film was a transformative experience, the director says, gesturing at his greying hair. For a lot of people that transformation was wisdom. For me it was just the colour of my hair.
Angelina Jolie escorts a frail but ever dignified Sidney Poitier to the stage. Just a few years back, Jolie came to this event with a satanic-red dress, one leg of which was sliced clean up to ya-ya. This time around shes clad altogether more demurely in silver.
But forget the distractions, its the award for direction.
The picture desk have made their prediction for best picture. Can you guess what theyve plugged for?
Put your hands together for Spike Jonze, the gawky, jumping-bean talent behind the cyber-romance Her. He adds an Oscar to the Golden Globe that he won a few weeks back and splutters disarmingly when he comes to read his speech at the mark. Once upon a time his films were written by the great Charlie Kaufman. He now seems to be doing pretty well on his own.
Yet a win for Her comes at the expense of others. Specifically where on earth is American Hustle? David O Russells film came into the night as joint frontrunner with 10 nominations. It now risks being sent home entirely empty handed.
All the praise goes to Solomon Northup, says writer John Ridley. Those are his words. His life. But Ridley goes on to praise the script editor who first got him started when he worked in TV, and all those who toiled behind the scenes to get 12 Years up and running. His speech is brief, taut and utterly heartfelt. Hes edited himself and hes done a fine job. He says what he needs to and then heads for the wings.
Make way for Robert De Niro and Penelope Cruz. Theyre here to present the screenplay Oscar, but who saw fit to send them up there together? They could be the stars of of the wildest buddy movie this side of Twins.
And the Academy Award for best original song go to the Lopezes, the boisterous married couple who wrote the theme song for the Disney animation Frozen. They love their daughters and they would really love to do Frozen 2. Almost certainly in that order.
Id like those two to come to dinner, please. #frozen
Gravity hits the half-dozen mark at the 2014 Oscars as Steven Price seizes the Oscar for best score. Mum, dad, Jenny, says Price. Sorry I made so much noise when I was growing up.
Please welcome two-time Oscar nominee John Travolta, instructs the voice in the sky.
Thank-you, says John Travolta. I love you. Im not sure whether he loves the audience, or us at home, or the voice in the sky. But he makes this admission with a grimace that suggests that it may be an awful confession, the thing he has wanted to get off his chest for years and years. So hes probably addressing the voice in the sky. Its kind of a Her scenario that he has going on.
We just crashed Twitter, announces Ellen DeGeneres, referring to her star-stuffed selfie from earlier in the evening.
Now is the moment when the Oscar ceremony briefly leaves the land of the living to wander at length through the celebrity graveyard. Glenn Close cues up the graceful, tasteful montage and after that the ghosts come wafting through the auditoreum.
What a lot of ghosts there are this year. Its hello and goodbye to James Gandolfini, Jim Kelly, Saul Zaentz, Roger Ebert, Paul Walker, Karen Black, Peter OToole, Shirley Temple and the wonderful Philip Seymour Hoffman. We love you, we honour you, we miss you, says Close. But most of all we thank you.
Quick update on Stuart Heritage, who has been playing our drinking game:
I am approximately one mouthful of cough syrup away from thinking that Ellen Degeneres is my own reflection
Joining Martin on the stage is Beverly Dunn, who collects the prize for set design. But Im confused. Are these statues different, or are they like conjoined twins? If the former, then The Great Gatsby is in second place (behind Gravity) with three awards. If the latter, its tied with Dallas Buyers Club on two.
Clearly there is some kind of two for one deal at this stage of the Oscars. In one fell swoop, Catherine Martin is called up to collect the award for her Great Gatsby set decoration. But she must share her moment with a colleague.
The excitement, it appears, has officially reached code-red. Hadley Freeman mails in a flurry:
Paolo Sorrentino could not sound more bored talking to the press backstage. There is a pleasing Toni Servillo-like languidity to him. Or it might just be that he is really uninterested in endless questions about what his win means to Italy
Give it up for Pink. Shes here to sing a medley of songs to celebrate the 75th anniversary of The Wizard of Oz. The film, not the book. Or the wizard.
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why cant I? sings Pink. But I think the question is merely rhetorical. The audience respond with a standing ovation. Not one of them attempts to answer her.
That rumble you hear is a genuine Oscar landslide. Mark Sanger and Alfonso Cuaron head up to the stage to pick up the editing Oscar for Gravity, bringing the films total to five awards and counting. Sanger hogs the microphone and the music rears up just as Cuaron clears his throat.
The director walks back to his seat without saying a word. Cuaron doesnt look overly concerned about this, however. In fact hes almost suspiciously sanguine. Perhaps he thinks he might be invited back up there before too long.
Lupita was predictably delightful backstage talking to the journalists. When asked how she felt when Liza Minelli bear hugged her, she replied I felt quite fabulous! She also talked about what her father whispered to her when she won: He said, Thank you. I feel like Willy Wonka! She even dealt with the crazy questions in style. When asked What have you learnt about the human spirit on your amazing journey?, she tactfully deflected: Thats a tough one! I guess Ive learnt I dont have to be anyone but myself. A Mexican journalist, How much of your triumph belongs to Mexico? (Nyongo was born in Mexico.) Nyongo replied with a laugh, I think it all belongs to me!
Amy Adams and Bill Murray totter out from behind the curtain to read the nominees for this years cinematography Oscar.
Jonah Hill has a slice. Martin Scorsese has a slice. Im almost feeling sorry for the Oscar winners who have already gone backstage. No pizza for them.
That was a real pizza delivery guy, not an actor. (Well, I guess he might be an actor. It's Hollywood.) #Oscars
The poor guys who won the documentary Oscar had the misfortune to be backstage and talking to the press when it was announced on the screens above that Lupita had won. The whole room as one burst out in joy, much to the documentary dudes bafflement
Up comes Lupita Nyongo. Shes hyperventilating with emotion; she can barely get the words out. She thanks co-stars Michael Fassbender and Chiwetel Ejiofor. She thanks her friends and her family and pays tribute to Patsy, the character she played, for providing her with guidance.
Most of all she thanks director Steve McQueen:
Thank you so much for putting me in this position. It is the joy of my life.
Christoph Waltz hops up to pay tribute to this years supporting actress nominees. Just for the record, he thinks theyre all stunning. Hes not fussy. He likes all of them just the same.
Anyhow, moving on, lets recap the stunners.
Lupita wins, so I drink Benylin cough syrup. And notice how big my pores are. pic.twitter.com/exDR9IWdAD
Sure enough, Gravity promptly widens the gap. Turns out that Gravitys sound editing was just as good as Gravitys sound mixing. Three Oscars and counting.
Back to the business in hand and its the second award for the night for Gravity. It wins for sound mixing and nudges ahead of the rest of the pack. Try as I might I cant see it being overtaken. I think it leads the way from here on out.
Ellen DeGeneres steps down amid the throng to corral the guests into the ultimate Oscar selfie. Its a little spooky, like something out of a Don DeLillo novel. The most photographed people photographing themselves, live on camera, watched by millions.
She gathers Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt, Meryl Streep, various others and has them mug into the phone. She them requests us all to tweet it, which we shall duly do. Oh God, Ive never tweeted before! says Streep, though Im not sure DeGeneres was referring to her in particular.
More gravy tea. And my first deep retch of the night. If you're going to start a vomit sweepstake, get going pic.twitter.com/g1FVmN9Tm6
Hadley Freeman mails with more insights from behind the scenes at the sausage factory.
Every winner is expected to send a message to each journalists nation, eg Im from China - the Chinese people would like to know whether you would make movie with a Chinese crew? Also, every nominee is asked where they will keep their Oscar. Every winner is like, Um, why do you care? Are you planning to steal it?
Exit Tyler Perry, enter Brad Pitt. Hes here to introduce U2 and U2 are here to play Ordinary Love, their song from the Mandela biopic. Bono appears to have gone up about three octaves since the last time I heard him. Maybe it has something to do with the shorts that everyone seems to be name-checking at this years Oscars.
How many more Oscar songs do we have to sit through tonight? Im still hoping theyll play Alone Yet Not Alone, the theme from the Christian faith movie that was banned at the eleventh hour. Fingers crossed they can get Jack Nicholson to sing it.
All hail The Great Beauty, Paolo Sorrentinos swooning, ravishing satire of the demi-monde of Rome, arguably the standout picture of 2013. It has just won the foreign film Oscar. On stage Sorrentino thanks Rome and Naples, Fellini and Scorsese. Hes listing his inspirations and one feels he could go on and on.
Ladies and gentlemen, interrupts the voice in the sky. Please welcome Tyler Perry. What a glorious juxtaposition. It brings us bumping down to earth. What does one do after watching The Great Beauty? Where else can one possibly go? Please welcome Tyler Perry.
Hadley Freeman mails from the bowels of the Dolby.
Im backstage in the press room which is the most surreal experience of my life. Jared Leto just described it as an orgy, so that should sum up the weirdness. Even Leto was weirded out.
Theyre giving them out to Steve Martin and Angelina Jolie and Angela Lansbury and Danny Dyer. Theyre giving them away to everyone. Well, possibly not to Danny Dyer, at least not yet. Amid the rash of honorary Oscars its hard not to get confused.
Geoffrey Rush just asked Angela Lansbury whether she is the living definition of range. That makes her sound like a ranch in Oklahoma.
20 Feet From Stardom, an amiable salute to backing singers, scoops the documentary feature Oscar, which is great news for the film-makers and for fans of the movie. But its hard cheese for The Act of Killing, Joshua Oppenheimers astonishing portrait of the unrepentant gangster killers of Indonesia. It deserved to win. It should have won. But the Oscar voters saw things differently. And those that did are just plain dumb.
Holocaust survivor Alice Herz-Sommer died last week at the age of 110. She was woman who put her longevity down to her boundless optimism. She now lives on in The Lady in Number 6, a film about her life and (specifically) her life in music. It has just picked up the award for best documentary short.
Put your hands together for Anders Walter and Kim Magnusson. Theyve just won the Oscar for best short for their film Helium. Wow, this is crazy, says Walter, while Magnusson gives a nice shout to his mum, whos sick at home. Both thank the Academy for supporting shorts. Pharrell Williams appears to have kickstarted some kind of trend out here tonight.
The moon rises at the back of the stage at the Dolby theatre and the lights are dimmed. On the steps sit Karen O and her doting male guitarist Ezra Koenig. They have come (fittingly enough) to sing The Moon Song, the dreamy, slightly drippy ballad from the Spike Jonze film Her. The audiences applause is a little muted. Im guessing Jack Nicholson has nodded off in his seat.
Ladies and gentlemen, says the voice in the sky. Please welcome two exceptional actors - Emma Watson and Joseph Gordon Levitt. At least I think thats what the voice said. Joe Gordon Levitt may well have mislaid his original partner.
Anyhow, Levitt and Watson are here to announce the Oscar for best visual effects. It goes, as it surely always was going to, to Gravity, which was largely assembled at the Framestore in London. Its Gravitys first award of the night. Chances are it wont be the last.
Gravy and tea. This is the worst thing I've ever tasted. I've gone right off Gravity pic.twitter.com/GzXlyO9kz1
The Mr Hublot duo should have adopted the tactic of the Frozen team of Chris Buck, Jennifer Lee and Peter Del Vecho. They come up together and proceed to give their thanks in unison. They exit stage left with the Oscar for best animated feature film. Im guessing they now cut it into three separate sections, like Solomon with the baby.
Frozen, it should be noted, is the first Disney movie to ever win the best animated feature Oscar.
Kim Novak and Matthew McConaughey walk arm in arm to the podium, although it appears that they have only just met. How are you? says the Vertigo with such a bemused air that she might as well have asked Who are you?
Pharrells performance of Happy made many people happy, including happy Meryl Streep and HAPPY Lupita Nyongo HB
Is this the first surprise of the night? Heading into the night, I figured that American Hustle was a dead cert to scoop the hair and make-up award, if only because the film is first and foremost the story of what happens to Christian Bales hairpiece. The indignities that befall. The horrors that are meted upon it. But no. Shockingly, the Oscar goes Adruitha Lee and Robin Mathews for their work on Dallas Buyers Club. In fairness, they look as stunned as anyone.
Quick check of the nominees. It turns out that American Hustle wasnt even shortlisted for the hair and make-up. My apologies. But what a slap in the face for the Bale wig. Whats wrong with those voters? Thats the big scandal of this years Oscars right there.
Naomi Watts and Samuel L Jackson take to the stage to hand the costume Oscar to The Great Gatsby. Its the third Academy Award for Australias Catherine Martin, wife of director Baz Luhrmann. I have a few words tucked inside my bra, Martin explains - and she digs around to retrieve them.
If youre one of the people searching Twitter for Ellen DeGeneres, then this is your fault. HB
Make way, make way for Pharrell Williams, who appears to have found his hat and dropped his shorts and is now blazing his way through Happy, the Oscar-nominated song from Despicable Me 2. Happy is bright and Happy is bouncy. Listening to Happy is like drinking a gallon of Sunny Delight while being spun round and round on a fairground waltzer.
So its already a golden night for Jared Leto. But the upside for the losing nominees (for Abdi, Hill and the rest) is that they all take home an official Oscar goodie bag worth a reported $80,000. This bag contains all manner of riches. There are luxury holiday vouchers and a home spa system. There is horse shampoo and a pepper-spray gun. Most intriguingly of all, the bag contains a vaginal rejuvenation treatment known as the O-shot. Something to bear in mind, what with Mothers Day coming up.
The Oscar goodie bag may sound outlandish to you and me, but it offers a fascinating snapshot of modern-day celebrity. Its contents provide a kind of composite portrait of the Hollywood thoroughbred. When the likes of Sandra Bullock and Julia Roberts are not off gallivanting on a luxury vacation, they can be found tottering around Beverly Hills, reeking of the stables and pursued by horse rustlers. They brandish pepper-spray guns as they dart, loins aflame, from their limo to the lunch.
His red bow-tie blazing, his leonine locks flowing, Jared Leto steps up to collect the Oscar for his acclaimed turn opposite Matthew McConaughey in the rangy, satisfying Dallas Buyers Club. His speech heaps praise on his mother. I love you mom, he tells her. Thanks for helping me to dream. He goes on to dedicate his award to all the other dreamers in Venezuela and the Ukraine.
We are here, he informs them. I think he means this as a word of encouragement and it is clearly well-meant, though Im not sure how much actual comfort it provides. Sleep easy, Ukraine. The celebrities are all inside the Dolby theatre.
Up steps Ann Hathaway (billed as the first white presenter of the night) to announce the best supporting actor prize.
Here come the contenders.
Jared Leto wins for Dallas Buyers Club. Just some beer. I'm crying grateful tears. Grateful tears of rum. pic.twitter.com/GJTJAjyw7r
The 86th Academy Awards are hosted by Ellen DeGeneres, whose easy, convivial manner strikes an immediate contrast with Seth McFarlanes ill-judged japery in the same role last year. I hosted this event seven years ago, DeGeneres points out. And Im honoured they invited me back so quickly.
From here her routine pokes gentle fun at nominees Barkhad Abdi, Jared Leto, Jennifer Lawrence and June Squibb, pausing only to single out a brilliant Liza Minnelli impersonator who may, in fact, turn out to be Liza Minnelli. Good job, sir! DeGeneres tells her (or possibly him). Minnelli responds with a pained, frozen grimace.
Stuart Heritage is live-drinking the Academy Awards, following the rules of our Oscars drinking game. Lets see how hes getting on ...
The carpet circus is over, the ceremony is about to begin. It is at this point that we bid a sad farewell to the likes of Ryan Seacrest, Robin Roberts and the bloody carpet and step inside the Dolby theatre. The curtain comes up on the 86th Academy Awards. And not a moment too soon.
Quick conflab with JCM confirms that this dress is hot. Robbie knows it too. You can tell from her eyebrows. IF
Why has Angelina brought a Bradford bouncer as her date? IF
Alarming scenes on the blood-red carpet outside the Dolby theatre. The crowds are all screaming! reports Robin Roberts, clutching her microphone. And when the crowds are all screaming, its hard to tell who theyre screaming for. Maybe theyre just screaming, Robin. Maybe they have all collectively gone insane.
Undeterred, the celebrities keep filing past the screaming hordes on the sodden bleachers. Jonah Hill thinks they are screaming for Leonardo DiCaprio. Lupita Nyongo explains that her Prada dress was inspired by champagne bubbles. The crowd, in the meantime, continues to scream.
The carpet has taken over. The carpet is king. Arent the Academy Awards meant to start a few minutes from now? Shouldnt everyone be making there way to their seats by now? Apparently not. The guests are still arriving, the hosts are in full spate. Everybody, it seems, is still stuck outside the Dolby theatre, squishing back and forth across a rug that has turned as red and viscid as beetroot soup?
Woo hoo! scream the hosts. Its Jamie Foxx! They are in their element, they can keep this up all night. Maybe they dont even realise that there are awards to announce. Maybe they think that theres just these cameras, this carpet, and that the door to the Dolby leads to nowhere, or possibly to death. Apologies for the morbidity. Stare too long at a blood-red carpet and the whole experience starts to feel a tad existential. Woo hoo, the carpet looks like freshly spilled guts! Woo hoo, Jamie Foxx has just trodden in entrails! For the love of God, please send the guests inside.
Sandra Bullocks done it, so did Charlize Theron, Emma Watson and Kerry Washington. It works for us. And BTW Bullock looks excellent. Navy blue but in a warm way. Nice counterbalance too between the side hair on the left and the pleated detail on the right. IF
Remember, when Gwynnie wore the Tom Ford white dress with the matching cape? Kate does. Also, the pose is weird, it looks like her left leg is trying to escape. JCM
The palest of pale pink chiffon with a grosgrain ribbon belt. Sounds sugary and bleurgh right? But somehow PC has made it look modern and effortless. We stand in awe. IF
See its not what you wear, its how your wear it. Meryl is wearing a monochrome gown like its a sweatshirt and jeans. Its wardrobe confidence verging on cockiness. IF
She wont be laughing when they rip open the envelope and call the accountant to the stage.
Thats the message, loud and clear, from Emma Watson in Vera Wang. The T-shirt shape is cool, not prim, the gunmetal shade is a bit rocknroll. And if were not mistaken shes flying the flag for British fashion with an Anya Hindmarch crisp packet clutch. Full marks. JCM
The guy on the left is grinning because hes just scored out Cate Blanchetts name and written in his own.
Cate Blanchett is in a different fashion league from your average starlet. She has this sexy-froideur thing going on. This Armani dress seems to be made of capiz shells, so I am a bit worried about whether she can sit down? But thats the sort of thing us pedestrian, non-Blanchett specimens worry about. JCM
Dior pay her a lot of money. Not sure what the falling over is about. Anyway, I have been hoping she would wear this shape, the straight-lined column, because (a) its a bit more fashion and less Hollywood and (b) the Princess gown was cute but with the short hair this feels more grown-up and modern. Seriously, if she could only learn to walk shed have the red carpet nailed. JCM
Fresh from her insensible, alcohol-fuelled tumble on the sodden carpet, Jennifer Lawrence finds herself cornered by one of those pesky TV hostesses. Who are you wearing? demands the TV hostess and Jennifer Lawrence replies that she is wearing Dior.
Just to be clear: Jennifer Lawrence is not literally wearing Christian Dior. What Lawrence means is that she is wearing a dress (red, pretty) which was devised by designers at the Dior fashion house. So relax; its OK. Jennifer Lawrence has not rocked up to the Oscars like some demented backwoods Buffalo Bill, with the rotting skin and pelt of Christian Dior plastered to her naked limbs. Possibly with her teeth filed down to points, just to complete the image. That would be repellent.
Well it would be if it werent on Anne Hathaway. This is Mirrorball Chic. Whoever designed this dress and I promise to find out in a bit, was in a nightclub, looked up and thought, Eureka! Black dress, exploded mirrorball breastplate, thats it. IF
Paging a seamstress! This dress is not fitting the divine Julia Roberts, like at all. Should be tighter at the waist above the peplum section and pulled up a bit on the shoulders. Someone help her out with a bulldog clip or something. IF
Some (Bafta for instance) may claim that Gravity is the best British hope at this years Oscars, but those of a more sober and sensible stripe are probably rooting for Philomena, which is also up for the crowning best picture prize. Steve Coogan, the films co-writer, co-star and producer, has just walked right by Hadleys perch on the bleachers.
On running up to collect her best actress Oscar last year, Jennifer Lawrence tripped on the stairs and momentarily went down. On arriving to (possibly) collect her second Academy Award tonight, she has just managed to repeat the feat. Cynics are already speculating that shes staging her pratfalls. Alternatively she may be loaded to the gills. If shes this unsteady at this point of the evening, just imagine what state shell be in when she comes to read out her acceptance speech.
Do we like the clotted cream jacket? On balance yes we do. Im calling this the contingency look because he can whip off the jacket at any point and still have a posh look on with that black waistcoat. See, hes thought of stuff. IF
Julie Delpy wins #Oscars2014 red carpet. Lupita a close second.
Its Kerry Washington and shes gorgeous. So why did she slip on the hotel bedsheets and why didnt she get someone to steam the dress for her? Could she literally not get the staff? IF
Back in the TV studio, the fashion pundits tackle the elephant in the living room.
Can a dress make or break an actress? asks the first.
Because theyre just a bit weird and underwear solution ish arent they? IF
I am a bit obsessed with Glenn Close. I saw her IRL at a fashion party once and OMG her skin, luminous, literally LUMINOUS, and a mean dancer. Also, she wears dresses with sleeves, or matching jackets (I think this is a bolero?) on the red carpet, which is excellent. Not sure who this is by, but in 2012 she wore a dress and matching tux by Zac Posen. JCM
Sally Hawkins is wearing a pearly Crusader look. No need to look all apologetic about that Sal. IF
In case you hadnt heard already, this years Academy Awards shall be hosted by Ellen DeGeneres. Here she is in what we presume she will be wearing throughout tonights ceremony. I an [sic] happy, she declares happily.
Make way, make way for the excellent Amy Adams, Oscar nominated for her role in David O Russells American Hustle. Youve just got the biggest roar of the night, chirrups E! hostess Robin Roberts, though Im betting she says that to all the guests.
Adams goes on to explain that she is wearing Gucci, and that she loves the 50s, and that her dress is a homage to Kim Novak in Vertigo. Adamss dress looks OK. And here endeth the fashion critique.
Because Lupita Nyongo, the nominee everyone wanted to dress, is wearing Prada. Why dont more people wear baby blue? It looks amazing against the red carpet. It looks soft and dreamy compared to all the lead-lined corset gowns. But, can I be picky? Lupita has been building a rep for bold fashion choices and this is a bit safe. Also, the headband looks like the kind that crazy parents put on baby girls who have no hair. JCM
Sticking with sartorial matters, Hadley Freeman mails with an update on the state of Pharrell Williams, who appears to have rocked up to the Academy Awards dressed as little Jimmy Krankie.
Pharrell update: no hat, yes shorts. End of Pharrell update.
You sort of have to be French to pull this off. As my colleague Imogen points out, on a norm, this would like like something from Warehouse circa 2005. But Julie looks foxy. Also, love the double hands-on-hips pose, which is unexpectedly Kardashian. JCM
Obviously I feel I have the whole Oscar fashion shebang well covered on this blog. But if, for some reason, you require fashion correspondents who are EVEN MORE knowledgeable and discriminating than me, bespoke dedicated coverage can be found right here.
...but we quite like Coogans red carpet roar thingie. Particularly since hes gone for a double-breast. No apologies for overuse of the fashion singular. IF
Were calling this look (modelled by Naomi Watts) Done Down on the fashion desk. We like it a lot - red carpet flat hair. Oddly, it works. Love the red lips and the black shoes with the cloudy dress, but that necklace is far too similar to one Liz McDonald was wearing on Coronation Street on Friday IF
Out on the carpet comes the great Sidney Poitier, an Oscar winner himself way back in the 60s and a trailblazer for generations of African-American actors that followed. How special is it to be here as an Oscar winner? demands the ABC television host and then repeats the question with the volume turned up. HOW SPECIAL IS TO BE HERE AS AN OSCAR WINNER?
Oh, well, says Poitier. Its something I remember. The red carpet interview slightly falls apart from here.
Out on the carpet, Ryan Seacrest is currently telling a confused 84-year-old woman that he is officially, right this second live on E!. Small wonder she looks so unnerved.
June is looking at Ryan as if he is an actual talking carpet. RT @vulture: Ryan is explaining E! to June Squibb.
Chris Rock tweets from somewhere or other. Conceivably the Smithsonian.
I can't believe it for the first time in my life I'm rooting for slavery.
This is Amy Adams in a navy blue dress from Gucci. Its perfectly nice, but its not exciting. Good ingredients, but no sizzle. Next! IF
Best things about this tux shorts number from Pharrell? The fact that you can so tell hes moisturized his legs. Look - shiny calves! Also loving the studied awkwardness of the pair of them together with their mix and match tux actions. Good work. IF
She has no umbrella and shes tweeting in the rain. Here are the latest pictures from Hadley Freeman, live and loving it outside the Dolby theatre. First up, its Liza.
If it's good enough for Wong Kar-wai, it's good enough for me. Red carpet selfie, yo. pic.twitter.com/buW4Yt9TzP
Guests arriving for the 86th annual Academy Awards must first brave the E! team on the red carpet outside the Dolby theatre, and the ringleader of the celebrity circus is Mr Ryan Seacrest, who comes to cajole and flatter and occasionally kiss. Here are some facts about your host for the night.
My company is in the business of content, delivering content, so whether you see it or taste it or hear it or smell it, thats what I do every day.
In the TV studios, the pundits are previewing the red carpet arrivals. Lupita Nyongo, we are told, is not just the breakout star of 12 Years a Slave (centrepiece of which is a scene of her being whipped senseless for taking a bar of soap); shes also the breakout star of the red carpet and this years hottest fashion icon. As the resident expert puts it:
Shes not letting the clothes wear her. Shes wearing the clothes.
This is how things are looking inside the Guardian office. No view of the red carpet (except on the TV), but were just five minutes from the tube. Plus (it seems) we have a greater head count than our American cousins at the New York Times.
Liza Minnelli has arrived, dressed for a Smurfs pyjama party. I cant work out which is more awesome: the blue streak in the hair, or that she hasnt bothered to change out of the flat shoes she wore for the journey. JCM
Its a stance that says, yep, Im ready. Its a green silk dress but shes wearing it like a red carpet riot shield. IF
Glamour for us stretches to a shirt weve worn for only three days. Luckily our friends on the fashion desk are on hand to comment on the Oscar guests gladrags and handbags. Look out for their posts over the next hour and a bit. Theyll be the (marginally) less snarky ones. HB
Spare a thought for the luminaries of world cinema who are too art-house, too unfamiliar, or just too foreign to spark a delirious greeting from the likes of Ryan Seacrest or Robin Roberts. Wong Kar Wai, for instance, is widely held to be one of the greatest film-makers of his generation, the creator of Chungking Express, Happy Together and the peerless In the Mood For Love.
Plop him down in Cannes or Venice and they would be hailing him as a god. But at the Oscars hes no one. He might as well be Charlize Therons minder, or one of the luckless cleaners sucking water through a straw. He is reduced to standing forlornly in the rain, taking pictures of himself.
Proof, it proof were needed, that God has hated the Oscars ever since King of Kings failed to sweep the board back in 1961: its been raining hard in Hollywood. Outside the theatre, the Oscar statues have been shrouded under plastic and the red carpet has become like borscht. Incidentally, isnt it high time we had a King of Kings sequel? Perhaps called King of King of Kings.
Hadley Freeman mails from the deluge:
Apparently they had to suck about 60 gallons of rain water out of the red carpet this morning.
If the thought of sitting through the 86th Academy Awards in a sober state is too much to bear, then fear not, we have an alternative. You can now watch the stars though the eyes of a drunk courtesy of our grand (and possibly illegal) Oscar night drinking game. Stuart Heritage slurs the rules and then prepares to lead the way. Stuarts playing coy, but hes half-cut already and as purely excited as a small child at Christmas.
Here's the Oscars drinking game. DO NOT PLAY ALONG. It is really fucking stupid and I'm worried it'll kill me: http://t.co/HlhPoEReK0
Hadley mails from the bleachers where the forecast is middling:
For some reason the Academy organisers decided in their infinite wisdom to take down the covering over the red carpet and press bleachers, even though it has been raining for 3 days. So the press now all has wet bottoms and are very grumpy.
But no matter! The MC is warming up the red carpet (Who here loves The Ellen Show?!??!!!) and the sun is finally coming out. We are set to start.
At the risk of letting light in on magic, it should be noted that we are actually blogging these Oscars from the heart of the Guardian newsroom in wintry central London. But our esteemed colleague Hadley Freeman is on the ground in Los Angeles and shall be reporting in throughout the night.
The annual celebrity parade kicks off shortly, gleefully hosted (as it is every year) by the Amazing Smirking Imps of E!. For the rest us, there is still ample time to kick back, pour out a stiff drink and preview the Oscars at leisure.
First the bad news. The stormclouds are massing, Russian forces are in Crimea and the world stands on the brink of another cold war.
Jess Cartner-Morley shows how dungarees can be worn with a shirt, blazer and high heels. Whether or not you deem dungarees to be age-appropriate is not relevant here. Instead of asking 'Can I wear dungarees?' ask yourself 'How can I wear dungarees?' We select some cool dungarees available on the high street
'By adding a white shirt you make dungarees urban rather than rustic, and grown-up rather than childlike'
I try not to pay too much attention, on the whole, to what is age appropriate or otherwise. (What's that? Oh, you'd noticed?) This is because, first, that way madness lies, and second (and most pertinently), if I open that can of worms I will end up talking myself out of a job. So, for practical purposes: la la la, I can't hear you.
A new exhibition charts how postwar Italy transformed the world's perceptions of it, using its greatest export: style
The word glamour originally meant magic or enchantment: to "cast a glamour" was to cast a spell to make something appear different from reality. And it is glamour in this sense what the author Virginia Postrel calls nonverbal rhetoric that is at the heart of the V&A's new exhibition, The Glamour of Italian Fashion 1945-2014.
Not that glamour in its modern, mainstream sense is in short supply: there is, naturally, a leopard-print gown by Roberto Cavalli, and a devastating cutaway cocktail dress by Donatella Versace.
Jess Cartner-Morley takes on a fashion taboo as she demonstrates how to wear socks with sandals. The trend of wearing ankle boots with summer clothes the filled-in shoe, blank leg, filled-in top has normalised the silhouette. So now's a good time to give it a go