À la Mode
2008 – Issue Fourteen – London
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Introduction The one thing that everyone is happy to disagree about is what’s ‘in’ fashion. Not just clothes but clubs, food, cities, books, pubs and now airport terminals. In fact, just about everything we put our ‘aheadof-the-game’ minds to, we will disagree on. Fortunately, there are enough devotees in each camp to form the self-supporting tribes that constantly oscillate the barometers from IN to OUT. Starting fashions is about talent, uniqueness and luck, and right now, London is full of those three things vying for your attention.
ON THE COVER Toya Walker – Cover Artist
Some fashions come to an end because they are exhausted by a mass market audience. Some are brought to an end before they even get to the mainstream by their over-protective coterie. But London is where artists want to paint, where DJs want to play, where US TV celebs want to tread the boards and where chefs want to open restaurants. We are spoilt for choice. Of course the other ingredient that makes something successful is who says it’s good. Magazines play their part; however, London is getting used to the fact that decisions are also being made by you, individual opinion formers.
Toya Walker is one of those 20 something’s who make ambitious 30 something’s very nervous. Smart, direct and once you have seen her portfolio, alarmingly talented, she commands respect from her choice of shoes to her choice of materials in her subtle but startling illustration and image making. Now 26, her start at Edinburgh Art School has set her up with an observant and amusing, confident easy line that reflects references from Goya to Hello! Magazine.
This quarter’s magazine looks at what is happening around us. Who is making the decisions that affect lifestyle and who is underwriting it? We look at the creative force that is Nick Knight and Peter Saville’s SHOWstudio; Jess Hines investigates what it takes to become a Bollywood superstar; we expose how personal shoppers steer the rich and lazy through a department store; and take a look at what direction theatre is taking – live, interactive and thrilling.
She describes herself as a Fine artist/illustrator but the ‘slash’ is disconcerting – how seriously she takes the work of a commercial artist belies the skill and depth that her noncommercial work has – both compliment each other, a talent that artists in the commercial market today need. She is very controlled, ‘’I never listen to music when I work, otherwise mood is affected and I sing along which stops me concentrating.’’ What other aspect of culture inform her work? To raise a laugh she prefers the dry humour of the Mighty Boosh or indeed, in a moment of softness, her own baby’s laugh. Her favourite television programme is Come Dine With Me. About books she is equally succinct – its picture books and then novels (in that order although), with novels she says they “annoy her because the characters are either vacant or annoyingly selfaware and she has to read them all in one go’’. In one go? Yikes!
We also ask the question: where will viral take us online, who outshone the Stereophonics down in the studio and how to dress your very own Chihuahua. And to make your pursuit of the most cool and most fashionable events we have coming up at the Club, we have made your lives easier by devoting three pages in the magazine to highlight events month by month so you can let your friends know what’s piping hot and what went out in the Stone Age. For those of you who do worry about keeping up, this issue is going to tell you what to read, what to watch, where to surf, what to drink and what to talk about. And if, of course, you are already à la mode, you can just flick to the back page and feast on the stack of great pre-release films we have coming up in the Screening Room, aswell as other goodies.
Toya’s work also illustrates ‘Would You Like a Side of Body Dysmorphia with Your Sandwich’ on pages 5-7 and we look forward to seeing more in a magazine and gallery near you soon.
Too cool for school?
CONTRIBUTORS Lydia Penke firstname.lastname@example.org Marie Berry
Editor: Creative Director:
Duncan Cargill email@example.com Editorial team:
Fabia Palliser Sub Editor:
Suzanne Clode Art Direction, Design and Artwork: topright www.topright.co.uk 01737 558 990 Repro, Print & Ad Production: Complete www.completeltd.com +44 (0) 20 7729 6555
Would You Like a Side of Body Dysmorphia With Your Sandwich?
Front Row Politics
Do You Sell Fridges?
I Like a Rolling Stone
Giddy & Reeling
A Bolly Good Book
A Brief History of Viral
Jess Gearhart exposes exclusive stuff about the fashion industry, like people are too skinny
Scissors to the ready… Toya Walker illustrates how to dress your pooch
Check out The Hospital Club’s Website
Peter Saville and Nick Knight studiously show us how it’s done
Jodie Harsh tells us how to guarantee a front row seat at any Fashion Week
A clever pun on Selfridges. Geddit? It’s all about one gal’s personal shopping experience
It’s been emotional
Marie Berry recovers from a very theatrical night out
An obituary to the legendary club-night that was full of the trendy ‘Shoreditch twats’
Paul Rees’ personal experiences on how music influences fashion
Does Britain need its identity back?
Mark Earls used to work in Advertising, but now he’s feeling much better, thanks
Hello Madam, you are coming from? Ah, Cornwall! Will you be writing my biography?
You Bore Me, Pete Brown
Members’ Film & Events Highlights Calendar What’s cool and happening in The Hospital Club
The death of a club-land phenomenon (Page 18)
What’s cool and happening in London, Berlin, New York and Shanghai
Your rip-out guide to all films and events that are happening in The Hospital Club, where and when © The Hospital Group Ltd 2008. The copyright and contents of this publication are owned by The Hospital Group and no unauthorized copies of the whole or part may be made without express permission of The Hospital Group Ltd.
by Jessica Gearhart
Want a side of
dysmorphia with your
Let’s start this by saying I’m no fashion expert. I’m not a member of the elite squad of über-hip fashion writers rigorously trained in secret Vogue House Boot Camps to withstand the steely stares of Alex and Anna, sniff out fledgling talent at ten paces and, year after year, weather the everfresh onslaught of go-go boot-clad assistants greedily bum-rushing fashion week for coveted goody bags. No. Said profession takes an interminably thick skin, militant and unflinching dedication and an acute understanding (plus unconditional love of) fashion from the womb (where Vogue was read throughout the third trimester).
ll the same, my profession and the fashion world overlap. Like the middle bit on a Venn diagram, there is a swathe of crossover but I usually shy away, feigning indifference and ignorance. There’s also my membership to the human race, one of those mammals who daily gets dressed. And it’s on those grounds that I can no longer squirm away in the discomfort of my ill-fitting garments. Instead of opting out because of said incessant discomfort, I choose life – not sweat pants in public – and this is why I make my case here and now against the creators of this daily clothing prison that so many of us endure in pained silence.
this. Even when unimaginably thin by normal person standards, shirt sleeves still pull tight around my, apparently, sausage-like upper arms and back seams stretch to a dangerous tautness across the clearly vast plane of my back (I measure 32 inches around).
It’s time that the normalbodied did the smack down on the underground federation responsible for the strange body eugenics going on in the mainstream (in glossies, on catwalks, every sodding time I happen upon a cluster of modelchasers and every time I fancy buying something other than a burlap sack). Card-carrying members of the Gay Mafia (aka I like to look good (who the fuck Velvet Mafia), I beseech you to doesn’t? If you say you don’t, you’re seek psychiatric aid, find inner lying), and if coughing up the peace and stop the physical dosh to buy this trendy tat, it had devolution of catwalk stalkers – better well fit – I don’t care if it men and women both – into prewas cut from a single “ I love my arse, pubescent, hairless pattern and a 4-footchildren. Yep, that’s perky tits with thick pile of fabric nipples pointing right. That’s what in the backwoods of I think. And don’t in the right Guangdong province. roll your eyes. This direction.” And, to get one thing is no skinny model straight, I’m no porker, so I’m debate. I couldn’t give a toss not asking the irrational: that about them, a few are naturally skinny jeans fit around a swollen skinny-ish, but many as much by size-20 arse. All is as it should be, unnatural means. Who gives a shit? my frame. Great proportions… The real problem is the nutters nothing too big, nothing too who think that man-boys and small. I love my arse, perky tits she-girls are the perfect vehicles with nipples pointing in the for their parochial designs. The right direction. I thank my lucky clothes you make – the ones that stars daily for this frame and yet shrink every year (we’ve read the nothing bloody fits. Ever. Sod tell-alls of former Dior Homme
models, Slimane. We’re on to you) and into which models have to squeeze their freakishly thin frames – end up on the peg and make the stupid masses think: thin + unbearably juvenile = ideal; normal body + normal ageing and aspiration (i.e. expecting clothes to fit) = bad. What sort of fucked up idea is that? When did a bit of sophistication become such a bad thing?
member of the Gay Mafia, with his mute, submissive girls… Long gone are the days of Christy Brinkley, Paulina Porizkova, Cheryl Tiegs, Beverly Johnson et al. and clothes that fit someone who has had their first period. We live in an era of the disposable, disappearing model made to fit diminutive garments. Natalia Vodianova, Alex Wek, Gemma Ward and faceless minions of shrinking men (even teenage Ali Freud would have a field day with Michael was kicked out of Paris the messed up shit going on in Fashion Week for being 5 pounds your nuggets, you body fascists. heavier than desired)… wide-eyed Karl Lagerfeld’s a bloody OCD and stupidly childlike to a fault in basket case (and a former fatty pictures. Same goes for the pretty so clearly harbours a deep-seated boys. It’s Alien Chic – so alien grudge against the “Karl Lagerfeld’s from either gender’s pudge). Heidi Slimane cues that they’re all a bloody OCD was obviously the like modern day basket case” git who got his ass eunuchs. Androgyny kicked daily in P.E. and is now is king, as if we all bow to the taking it out on the once musclethrone of a small child with a bound models he whittles down pudding bowl hair cut. to wafer-thin shadows of their former bullying selves. Just look at Is this the way the brotherhood those saucer-like, haunted, soulless of body dysmorphia desperately eyes (they give me nightmares), shows us that it wants a second subsisting on a diet of nothing stab at youth and youthful but, no doubt, self-righteousness appearance, with their ever more and fags. Julien McDonald? He elaborate shows and stubborn prefers the trashy version, but refusal to acknowledge body childlike nonetheless; the ones who shapes of those over 20 years-old? look like they’ve done nothing but (Karl, it wasn’t so long ago you nose candy for a decade, the only were a wobbly frame of flesh, curves left on their pointy frames and the lot of you err on the side being the fake tits their agent had of unattractive, even with all inserted at the ripe age of 16. Marc that fake tan). The pinnacle of Jacobs? He’s having a mid-life crisis, this petulance being Gaultier’s ignore him. Gianni Versace (God mockery of anything more than rest his soul)? He was a founding childlike by catapulting to the
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other end of the body and clothing unless he fancies working with spectrum, ‘embracing’ normal the Gay Mafia, in which case he bodies by placing a grotesquely fat, must drop at least 90% of his corseted woman body weight from “Androgyny is king, as on the runway that repulsively (there is a medical if we all bow to the natural frame and throne of a small child thus will promptly term for that, chief ). It’s the Gay with a pudding bowl disappear from hair cut.” Mafia’s version sight if standing at of a tantrum and we cannot give a side view. Shame he’s an elephant in, people. Do you know nothing though. Even paper-thin, he’ll about child rearing? Our lives will never be able to wear their clothes. be miserable if we let them win, Jessica Gearhart is a writer and but I fear we might be too late. editor generally based in a plane Spare the rod, spoil the child and somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. She recently co-edited the the rod’s been spared for some Luxe guide to London, is 1/4 of decades now. Whatever the reason behind this insanity, the Gay Mafia’s twisted obsession with the body is wreaking havoc on my wardrobe and I’m fucking angry. If it gets worse – childlike no longer being enough – and nappies start popping up on the catwalk, here’s to hoping that editors and fashionistas alike unite to call an end to the infantalisation and steady destruction of fashion, beauty and my clothes by this unhappy lot. There’s an elephant in the room, ladies, and it isn’t going away. That is, of course,
the team behind the forthcoming website Cult Beauty and ﬁddles about on The Hospital Club website from time to time. She likes Claussen pickles, British men and clothes that sodding ﬁt.
Illustrator: Toya Walker
This month on thehospitalclub.com
Check out the most recent shenanigans of our monthly Under-30 events. Services Directory
THE freelance directory space to promote your professional skills and services to those who work in your industry or might require your expertise. Q, The Music Club Live at The Hospital Club
The Hospital’s exclusive annual ranking of the 100 most important under40s on the London media scene. Who’s on it? More importantly, are you?
Exclusive video footage of the intimate acoustic gigs in our studio. The only place you’ll see Ronnie Wood and the Stereophonics on stage together.
From the Blogs The Dirty White Boy Diaries
With all this talk of robins laying eggs in January and polar bears stuck on melting ice floes, you could be forgiven for thinking that global warming doesn’t affect the urban environment. Not so. Climate change has hit Old Compton Street. How do I know this? Well today we had the first sighting of drag queens on this street. In March! It’s unheard of.
Charlotte Raven was photographer curator at the V&A so she knows her snappy snaps, and she says that Vanity Fair is both snobbish and, well, no better than the rest of them celeb magazines in fawning over big names and being temporary fluff, not long lasting iconography. She’s right about the photos, and wrong about some of the journalism. But there’s no denying that Graydon Carter’s high horse is lopsided.
Everybody Loves Mao
Trust the Chinese to find a use for call centres. Whilst most of us struggle in silence impotently accepting their Fascistic unhelpfulness, theirs is a new and enlightened craze sweeping the Celestial Kingdom. According to this week’s China Newsweek it is
the latest FREE way that people are learning English. Because ‘these conversations may be recorded for training purposes’, the poor bastards chained up amongst the telephone banks MUST engage with your attempts at garbled English.
SHOWstudio was founded by photographer Nick Knight and designer Peter Saville. It is a website that invites users behind the scenes of fashion, art and music, and allows individuals from all over the world to follow the creative process as it happens by utilising online technology. But, I hear you cry, doesn’t everyone pertain to be doing that? Yes, but not everyone is doing it with Agyness Deyn, Björk, Brad Pitt, Tracey Emin, Leigh Bowery, Alexander McQueen, Heston Blumenthal, John Galliano, Kate Moss, Aitor Throup and Gareth Pugh. SHOWstudio is outstanding. Its content is of the highest quality, its collaborators are the most talented across the creative industries and access is what it is all about.
Nick Knight is best known as the British fashion photographer whose award-winning campaigns have included Alexander McQueen, Calvin Klein, Christian Dior, Jil Sander, Lancôme, Levi Strauss, Audi, Martine Sitbon, Mercedes-Benz, Royal Ballet, Royal Opera House, Swarovski and Yves Saint Laurent. He is lesser known as an experimental creative outside the conventions of everyday fashion photography. His work has always been elegant,
off-key and arresting but it is the abstract way he approaches his work, incorporating new thinking and collaborating with the best designers, artists and other creatives, which is what SHOWstudio is all about.
In 1986 he collaborated with designer Peter Saville on a catalogue for Japanese designer, Yohji Yamamoto. It was his first foray into fashion photography and a meeting of minds that was
to change and reshape the way consumers understand fashion, accessories, cosmetics and scent in magazines and on billboards. Peter Saville, artist and designer, was already famous for the design of record sleeves for Factory Records artists New Order and Joy Division. He subsequently created work for artists such as OMD, Roxy Music and Wham. His work outside music included seminal branding and advertising
by Pandora Vaughn
for clients such as Adobe, Selfridge’s and Pringle. He and Nick Knight continued to work in collaboration and the two launched SHOWstudio in November 2000. Since then, they have delivered over 300 projects on SHOWstudio, regularly getting over 100,000 hits for their live and interactive one-offs. Nick Knight says that the site “is based on the belief that showing the entire creative process — from conception to completion
— is beneficial for the artist, the audience and the art itself.” And indeed that is what you get. A recent project, ‘Dress Me Up Dress Me Down’, involving model Liberty Ross, investigated the idea of who has control in a fashion shoot – the photographer, the stylist, or the model - by requesting direction from internet users. “We are trying to create and promote a two-way medium. Not one-way, but where the audience is part of the creation of each piece.” Nick
shoots and Liberty poses, but under direction via live interaction from viewers. The process is broadcast live online and the results are uploaded onto the site. With its live image-making, recorded projects and interactive broadcasts, SHOWstudio has gone on to win the Webby Award for Best Fashion Website. It is a creative feast. Exciting to watch, play and interact with - it comes as close to being with fashion’s leading
creatives as you can get. Currently, the site has a short film project running entitled ‘Political Fashion’ where the London creatives have been invited to make a film that expresses their attitude towards the industry. The likes of Fred Butler, Steven Klein, Matthew Stone and Camille Bidault Waddington have the opportunity to take their gloves off in this unique, serious and amusing collaboration. http://www.showstudio.com/ project/politicalfashion#movies
he most important faces on the front row are the press and buyers, but Joe Public probably has no idea who they are. Central Saint Martin’s students, having blagged their way into a standing ticket at the back, gawp at their idols. There’s Suzy Menkes from the International Herald Tribune with her finely coiffed quiff, Hillary Alexander from the Telegraph with her spectacles and tendency to up and leave should a show run more than thirty minutes late, Jefferson Hack from Dazed in his super skinny suits and skinnier ties, Anna Piaggi dressed like a circus clown, and of course Anna Wintour from US Vogue in super-sized glasses. These are the makers and breakers of the fashion industry yet they’ve all realised they too need a gimmick – a certain look that’s distinctly them, instantly recognisable to even the freshest fashion PR intern straight off the plane from Tokyo, to ensure they are ushered straight into their front row seat upon arrival.
being turned down for a ticket to the Balenciaga show in Paris. Superstar stylist Rachel Zoe made an enemy in Marc Jacobs – she was marched out by his security in front of the laughing paparazzi. You may be an A-lister (or, in Zoe’s case, a D-lister), but if you don’t fit into the designer’s brand values, your name is most certainly not down.
My favourite front row guests are the family of the designer. If I was a tog-designer I would seat my mother in the best seat in the house so all the hard-faced fashionista types could see how proud she was of me. Henry Holland’s sisters and Mum always sit front row, as does Julien MacDonald’s beloved mother. Anna Wintour may have given you her seal of approval, but if it wasn’t for Ma and Pa, you really wouldn’t be there at all.
Celebrity presence is essential to some designers – if their clothing range is weak or they need an ego wank they’ll fill the front row with their showbiz chums. It’s these photographs that sell around the world. Of course, there is a caste system. A Geldof sibling gets you no points, a Victoria Beckham gets you 5 points, a Moss, Madonna or Lopez gets you a full ten points, a pat on the back and a sparkling career of licensing deals. A picture of both Olsen Twins, Chloë Sevigny, Dita Von Teese and Mick Jagger, all seated together in a line (regardless of who’s met each other before or who knows who each other is), is priceless. The most fun part for the observer is speculating on whether some of the stars have been paid to be there. While the front row is off limits to anybody unless you’re a somebody, some people get barred from the show altogether. This is hot news. Kanye West recently wrote an angry blog on my MySpace page about 12
If it’s Fashion Week somewhere in one of the major rag-trade cities – Milan, Paris, New York and London – and there’s a major buzz about a show, I bet more people are concerned with who’s sitting front row than what’s being worn by stick insects on the runway. PR’s with headsets angrily march up and down, patrolling the front line, protecting their clients’ most prized, envied and valuable possession – two parallel rows of twenty-five seats, all in a pretty line.
by Jodie Harsh
Here are some tips I’ve observed (but never utilised myself) on blagging your way to the front row:
Look bored. No one in the front row ever seems to enjoy the show or like the clothes. Don’t tap your feet in time to the music even if Gareth Pugh has chosen your favourite early nineties rave track.
Bring a notepad, but make sure it’s from Smythson. A WH Smith jotter and a chewed-up biro won’t make you look like a stylish opinion-former. 13
Arrive late and in a frenzy. Shout things in French. Make a scene. Say ‘fuck’ a lot.
Be shameless. I once saw someone carrying their own fold-up garden chair into a show in order to set up their own A-list space. They were moved on by security but you may be luckier.
Blag an invite or mug somebody for one, and carry a selection of gold and silver star stickers in your pocket. Look over a real front-row guest’s shoulder to see which colour star indicates VIP-ness at that particular show and whip the appropriate sticker out. Et voila. You have a frontrow invite. Congratulations, dahhhhling.
My first, and I suspect only, brush with the rarefied world of personal shopping came courtesy of an old employer in the form of a leaving present.
y department store of choice was Selfridges and my first challenge was to find the personal shopping area. I eventually spotted the smallest sign in the world and an entrance that screamed discreet luxury – a subtle change in flooring and luxurious wallpaper being the main clues that I had found the right place. I presented myself at the reception (nothing as vulgar as a cash desk to be seen) behind a small queue of women. I waited behind one who was rummaging around in her Hermes Birkin bag increasingly violently. She looked at the assistant and explained that it drove her mad trying to find her black Amex in the bottom of it. Yes, I know, ridiculous, but I promise that’s exactly what she said. I was tempted to suggest
that a clutch from Top Shop and a Barclays connect card might be one way out of her present difficulty, but sensed that this probably wasn’t the time for smart-arsed irony.
Their partners seemed to work, but what did they do when this happened? Hoovering? I didn’t think so. I suppose with that kind of time on your hands, consuming becomes a serious business.
I started to feel slightly less clever when the women started to pay for the clothes they had bought in their sessions. No one flinched when phrases such as ‘that’ll be £6,000 Madam’ were uttered. Apart from me. Somehow £600 of gift vouchers didn’t feel like they were going to cut it.
Then Philippe* appeared. Kind of like a sexy, gay, French Jeeves he glided over the shiny floor without making a sound. We went through a brief, what was I looking for. Likes and dislikes. Would I be prepared to try stuff I wouldn’t normally buy? etc.
Who were these women? They seemed to be very busy. They talked of apartments in Paris, villas in Aspen and townhouses in New York. They seemed to have a lot of staff and yet despite concentrated ear-wigging on my part, it wasn’t quite clear what they actually did.
I was slightly distracted during this questioning; the only thing on my mind was my paltry budget and the need to confess before he went hot-footing it to Gucci and returned with armfuls of things I couldn’t afford. I interrupted him, ‘there’s something I need to tell you… I can only afford to spend
around £600, it was a leaving present, you see.’ He leaned in, whispered into my ear: ‘I do not care. I spent zee morning dressing a woman who look like zee fat peeg. Your body, eet is all in zee proportion. And you have zee high cheek bones. Eet is sooo boring dressing zeese women’. I think he was being kind. Whilst there were a smattering of women who, if you were pushed, you could describe as ‘zee fat peeg’, there were also women whose bone structure was to die for, whose legs went on forever. They pranced delicately about on their Jimmy Choos and tossed their glossy manes of hair like thoroughbreds at a racetrack. Still, that’s one of the bonuses of spending time with gay men - when they lie to you, you can almost believe them as you’re not suspicious that they’re trying to get into your pants.
by Juliet Haygarth
I was ushered into my own private dressing room, which is decked out with yet more luxurious wallpaper, a disconcerting number of large mirrors and 3 rails marked ‘yes’ ‘no’ and ‘maybe.’ Philippe magicked up a glass of champagne and floated off. Ten minutes later he appeared again, laden with clothes and looking very pleased with himself. Dresses and jackets and trousers and more dresses. He was only there for a second and disappeared again to go to the stockroom – apparently one of the perks of personal shopping is to get to see next season’s clothes before they’re on the shop floor. He returned again with more dresses. In between his forays I tried stuff on. The champagne flowed,
tiptoe forward like a geisha. This discovery brought me to my senses and I had to admit that although the dress was amazing (and in the sale to boot) I simply didn’t have the lifestyle to go with it. I have to get the tube and go to work and generally do stuff.
Philippe joined me (it was his birthday) and I began to enjoy myself. I think I may have even started prancing a little. Swishing skirts in front of the mirror, I tried clothes on I wouldn’t have even lifted off the hanger if left to my own devices. Slowly we started to divide the clothes across the 3 rails. Philippe was particularly keen on a D&G dress that was incredibly fitted and sexy. It took some manoeuvring to get it on, but once the mission was accomplished I looked in the mirror and felt like and old fashioned movie star. ‘Zis’ Philippe proclaimed firmly ‘ees zee one.’
Bar our little skirmish over the dress, Philippe and I agreed on everything and I walked away with four or five things that I’ve worn again and again and again. I’ve always wanted to have a few classic items that could justly be described as ‘pieces’. I walked away feeling like a bone fide grown up. What did I learn? That I can wear strapless dresses. That, bizarrely, the perfect pair of black trousers are made by Hugo Boss. That there’s no jacket that fits as sexily as a Vivienne Westwood jacket.
I was almost on the point of agreeing, but as I stepped towards the mirror I realised the skirt had an extremely designerish pencil cut and as such the only option was to
That looking like Jessica Rabbit is brilliant, but the novelty wears off when you actually have to do something that involves movement (such as walking). I couldn’t really decide what to make of that afternoon. After all the anxieties, it turned out to be really excellent fun. It was like playing dress up with your gay best friend, but with the best dressing-up box in the world. Had I just struck it lucky with Phillipe? Or was the world of personal shopping, once you’d got over the intimidation factor, actually a treat that everyone should experience once or twice in their lives? *Names in this story have been changed to protect identities i.e. I don’t want Philippe to get fired for describing some of his customers as fat pigs.
Photo: Joanna Dudderidge
here she was, the Hospital Club Matron, standing at the entrance 2 minutes before the gig started, wearing what could be confidently described as a Victorian Nurse’s uniform (provided by H&M no less), ready to administer the leeches if there were any latecomers, as a way of admonishment. Let’s just call her Nurse Schmidt for now. The first patient was a blonde lady with a wild panicky look in her eye, and on closer examination, she was shaking. She arrived quite swiftly, on foot, whispering that Ronnie had arrived, and proceeded to make her way towards the TV studio – she would’ve dropped rose petals along her way, had she been better prepared. A minute later, said Ronnie arrived, looking fashionably skinny, with a familiar trendy rock ‘n’ roll haircut. The
by Lydia Penke
only thing that gave away his age was his tight-fitting cricket jumper and the deep wrinkles on his face, and what gave away his job was the drain-pipe black jeans and the way everyone near him was quaking with fearful respect. ‘Oh! It’s Ronnie O’Sullivan!’ said Nurse Schmidt. ‘Who’s Ronnie O’Sullivan again? That’s so weird though, he looks just like Ronnie Wood.’ Nurse Schmidt had been a little bit confused, as both of the two Ronnies were there (no, not those two Ronnies, that would be weird – just bessie-mates Ronnie O’Sullivan, the snooker player and Ronnie Wood, the guitar player). The evening progressed, and although not a great fan of the Stereophonics who were playing at Q, the Music Club Live at the Hospital Club, as the event is
succinctly called, Nurse Schmidt found Kelly Jones’s dulcet tones strangely pleasing. Or maybe it was just that Ronnie Wood kept hugging her and telling her how fantastic she looked in her nurse’s uniform. The Stereophonics belted out their classic hits as well as a few new numbers in Kelly’s inimitable voice (unless you’re Rod Stewart, of course), and the TV Studio almost quivered with the excitement of it all – it was the first acoustic gig they’ve done in five years! Much to everyone’s disbelief and delight, the best gig ever was made even better, when that venerable rocker took his skinny jeans and cricket jumper up on stage and…er... ‘re-interpreted’ a perfectly good Beatle’s song. The ‘iRonnie’ didn’t get overlooked, a Rolling Stone playing a Beatle’s song (although his unique rendition made it seem like the whole Beatles vs. Stones 16
war of a bygone era was still a raw wound, and he was getting the ultimate revenge). The party afterwards continued upstairs on the fourth floor of The Hospital Club. Nurse Schmidt discharged a few bottles from the bar, as she recognised some familiar symptoms, and prescribed some alcohol, thus unwittingly pushing Ronnie off the wagon, pulling off the wheels, letting the horses run wild and setting fire to the whole thing. Everyone wanted in. The two Ronnies were shortly afterwards seen skipping down the streets of Covent Garden into the night, arm-in-arm, with Nurse Schmidt clinging onto their ankles with one arm and a shot glass in the other, her dignity somewhere in the gutter, and the paparazzi hot on their heels.
by Marie Berry
Still Giddy & Reeling
by Marie Berry
I don’t want to go to gigs and hero worship some chump with a guitar. Facing forward, surrounded by teenage rebels-with-overdrafts bouncing about, I can’t mosh along, and I definitely don’t want to stand at the back tapping my foot to the beat of the industry bods.
was Gideon Reeling. Mr. Reeling’s assistants provide more than simply performance, and they are more than bankrolled bright young things. This team create an atmosphere conducive to inclusion, an experience simultaneously glamorous and gritty; they are witty and irreverent and on hand to spin you into a smiling daze.
Clubs are worse. I’m not into queueing for an hour to be impolitely asked to leave conversation at the door and pay through the nose to enter an under-lit fuck palace full of eurotrash who think groping is the new relationship. House parties are small talk factories with worse lighting, worse DJs and, in most cases, rooms full of cocksuckers. Only good if you know everyone there and have a pocket full of ketamine, or you’ve just launched a website that you can’t wait to tell some bored corner stalker all about. Most of London is obsessed with the all-night drinking law that never made any difference, and sitting in some smoke-free pub getting sloshed and talking bollocks isn’t my thing either.
The point is, toasting my brain, emptying my wallet and risking sexual assault on my way home lost it’s sordid appeal in the 90’s and almost had me, at 26, convinced that I’m too old for that sort of thing. I was on the brink of hanging up my dancing shoes, getting a boyfriend and going ‘culture’ over debauchery. NFT anyone? It was at this point that one of the devilishly handsome cast of Punch Drunk’s production of ‘The Masque of The Red Death’ put me on the guest list for ‘The Lates’, the after show party to the best theatre production in town.
If this is what Gideon Reeling is all about, I want in, and in is exactly what you can expect. The most important, revolutionary and exciting idea from the assistants is Pervasive Games. This concept reminds you that as an adult, London is your playground, that it is you, not them, that own the streets. had found my definition of fun, or more specifically, indoor city fun, re-defined. ‘The Lates’ was a festival of lavish, decadent charm that swept me off my feet in a tango across the dance floor and scared the shit out of me with secret enclaves inhabited by masked demons, freaks and frolickers ready and waiting to tell you secrets, show you their wares or feed you a shot of something ‘different’. When you find yourself at a party like this, it’s only natural to ask… who’s in charge here? The answer delivered through Venetian masks
This was the first time since the end of the festival season that I
This is the future of fun. Gideon Reeling have done what ‘super clubs’ could only hope to do, they’ve taken it back to basics, stopped pandering to our vices and gone straight for the party jugular. When the red velvet curtain came down on the end of a night with Gideon Reeling, I had ticked all my party boxes, and drawn a lot more. Exhausted, amused and ready to face dawn with a smile, these experiences beg the question, who is Gideon Reeling, and where does he ‘do’ breakfast? Gideon Reeling was recently found doing his thing at The Hospital Club during the week of ‘Living Dangerously’, 25-28 March 2008.
“There’s no formula for this. You just know when it works, and when it does, it’s amazing”.
Photos: Alistair Allan
Boombox was a club-land phenomenon; an era-defining night which captured and channelled the energy and creativity of its time and place. For eighteen months, Boombox attracted a wildly flamboyant crowd of ultra dressed up clubkids, drag queens and Shoreditch starlets working homemade couture, animal masks, DIY wigs, customised vintage, fantasy make-up and extraordinarily imaginative looks. The weekly Sunday night extravaganza at the Hoxton Bar was the creation of promoter Richard Mortimer. His earlier nights, Golf Sale & Family, had been hugely successful Shoreditch parties, but Boombox took it all to another level.
There are other clubs in London (Trailer Trash, Foreign, All You Can Eat) that attract essentially the same crowd, but the energy at Boombox seemed somehow more concentrated. Partly this was the result of the famously strict door policy, designed to keep out gawkers and nine-to-fivers. The mood of the night was always exuberant, with wild dancing on the stage and/or bar and an infectious sense of excitement. Boombox was less about posing and preening than fully engaging. Music was originally cutting edge electro, with talented residents such as Jerry Bouthier and DJ Rokk, later giving way to a more “anything
goes” policy. Boombox was the glorious antithesis of corporate Ibiza-style clubbing; never too polished and often very messy. As Mortimer has said, “there’s no formula for this. You just know when it works, and when it does it’s amazing”. The night attracted famous faces including Naomi Campbell and Givenchy’s Riccardo Tisci. Bjork and Kylie both have been guest DJs. Alexander McQueen, Wolfgang Tillmans, Giles Deacon and make-up artist Pat McGrath were regulars along with a host of scene stars less known to the wider world such as Jonny Woo (who will be hosting The Hospital Club’s cabaret
night ‘The Oil Barons Ball’ on 19 April), Princess Julia, teenage performance artist The-O and DJ/ artist SCOTTEE (part of The Hospital Club’s week of ‘Living Dangerously’). Fashion darlings Gareth Pugh, Henry Holland and model Agyness Dean were very much part of the Boombox family and their growing fame paralleled that of the night. Alistair Allan’s brilliant photographs captured looks from the artful and clever to the brilliantly absurd and were uploaded after each night to his website dirtydirtydancing.com, creating an instant archive for the night and providing fuel for morning-after gossip.
by Helen Noir
Boombox’s success led to fashion week parties in Milan & Paris, the publication of a photography book in collaboration with MAC Cosmetics (with a campaign featuring Boombox branded black cabs) and a Burberry fragrance launch party. These later events felt more stage-managed, with über fashion PR Mandi Lennard’s role becoming more obvious. More mainstream exposure could have led to a dilution of the club’s raw creative energy, but Boombox bowed out at the height of the hype on New Year’s Eve 2007. Mortimer is now focusing on his new project, ponystep.com - a website covering fashion, music, art and parties. Stopping long before anyone got bored will ensure Boombox takes its place alongside Studio 54 and Taboo, becoming one of the small handful of iconic clubs that become shorthand for the scenes they help define, and which influence music, fashion and art long after their demise.
Even the mere mention of the word is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat. Palpitations and a creeping sense of dread follow in due course. You see, whilst there may be a fine line between being fashionable and not, there is a great, chasmic divide that separates the chic, the en vogue, the call-it-what-you-will and the position I have routinely occupied for much, if not all of my adult life. I am not, nor have I ever knowingly been, fashion conscious.
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Q, THE MUSIC CLUB, LIVE AT THE HOSPITAL CLUB
Paul Rees was the one looking anonymously understated at shows by Stereophonics and Seth Lakeman in February and March. Both were highly acclaimed affairs. Next up, Q and The Hospital Club are proud to host Mercury Music Prize nominees The Guillemots on 23 April and Bury’s ﬁnest, Elbow, on 21 May for intimate and exclusive live sets. We look forward to seeing you there.
Nation by Fanny Johnstone
Beefeaters, air hostesses, schoolgirls, nurses, sailors, nuns, pilots, maids…. Uniforms have been idolised and subverted in everything from Beatles movies to Vogue fashion shoots.
Uniforms are such an easy way of marking an era, of creating a sense of belonging. So with Britain currently renegotiating its identity, surely uniforms would be an easy way to help lead us forwards, into a new iconic age? After all, the Russian military have done it. Presumably to tie in with a new President, or perhaps to assert themselves during this New Cold War, they’ve just revamped their look. At a fashion parade in The Defence Ministry headquarters President Putin was shown a couture collection of new military uniforms by Valentin Yudashkin, Russia’s famous clothing designer. The Defence Ministry spent a reputed £2 million to commission the designs of new uniforms for the army, navy and air force. Production will cost around £300 million. Meanwhile the British army – who haven’t exactly been getting all the survival kit they need out in Afghanistan, let alone a sartorial over-haul - are deliberating whether encouraging British
soldiers to wear their uniforms off-duty might help to boost their popularity. After all, women love a man in uniform. Pupils and teachers have been voting to replace sweatshirts with blazers, shirts and ties in the hope that a strict uniform will help pupils perform better. Even the French can’t cope with the Lolitas they have to confront every day at school and are looking into reintroducing compulsory uniform. So what about companies like railways, banks, department stores and galleries? With individualism conquering all, it means that, in the work place, people are themselves first, their work second, presumably contributing to the resentful attitudes of many workers. No pride in the company, no pride in themselves. But, just like the pupils, wouldn’t companies’ productivity benefit by making their staff look good, and therefore feel good? Currently it’s a chicken and egg situation. Wearing a uniform is seen as inherently
shaming, but the shame is voiced by the vileness of most uniforms. Could corporate greed be delivered stylishly? Michael Oliveira-Salac of Blow PR says, “the problem is that when companies put their uniforms out to tender there are so many regulations these days that you can’t be a creative to design it. There’s money in it, but creativity and function don’t go hand in hand.” Ultimately we’ve forgotten that uniforms can be among some of the most dapper and sophisticated outfits around. The fashion industry doesn’t forget them and neither does the sporting world. So why should the worker? If the country’s private and public companies invested in beautifully made uniforms, it would give their workers a sense of pride and unity. And might just help Britain get its pride back. Fanny Johnstone is a lifestyle journalist for The Guardian, Telegraph, Observer and The Idler. She likes writing about adventures, classic cars, women’s issues and style.
Copycat by Mark Earls
At the end of the infamous deli scene in Rob Reiner’s When Harry Met Sally, the woman who has just witnessed Sally/Meg’s operatic fake orgasm performance from the next-door table utters the magic words to the waiter, “I’ll have what she’s having”. I’ll have what she’s having: no matter what the thinking that led to the yelping, screaming and shouting; no matter what the purpose of this display might be; no matter the fact that the food and the…ahem, overexcitement are not in anyway casually connected. I’ll have what she’s having…
In this one piece of minor-league dialogue, in the lull after the most memorable scene in many a long rom-com year, lies the most important truth about how behaviour spreads, not just for normal folk (‘civilians’, anyone?) but more surprisingly, perhaps, for us in the creative industries: people do what those around them are doing. Folk buy what other folks are buying (that’s what those Amazon ratings are all about) and they want what other folks have got (the French sage René Girard called this “mimetic desire” – something which sounds a whole lot cleverer than “copying” does). My friend Alex is an expert in how things spread through populations – not that he’s an epidemiologist, that’s Dr. D. No, Alex is an evolutionary anthropologist whose speciality is tracing how different kinds of behaviour spread through populations: from pottery styles in ancient Mesopotamia to children’s names in 20th Century Britain; from tennis players’ victory gestures to academic jargon and a host of other things. And what Alex points to is this: things spread through populations largely by folk copying what those around them are doing: with a bit of random drift, we mostly choose what other folk are choosing (which makes a heap of sense once you remember that the number 1 learning strategy for human infants is….copying).
Sally just happens to be the mother of the director, Rob Reiner) is that we professionals borrow from each other all the time. Not in the sense of lookingover-the-shoulder-of-the-boy-infront-and-copying-down-his-testanswers (or just leafing through old D&AD annuals) but rather in the sense of doing what folks around you are doing. If you’ve done a piece of work that your peers and clients admire, the one thing that you can be certain of is that a procession of prospects will ask you to do it again and again – if you’ve “done a Tango”, then you’ll be asked by a series of smiley suits to do orangy slappy things for them, too; if you’ve “done a Dove”, before you know it, you’ll be up to your armpits in ‘real beauty’ briefs and manifestos for change.
This “I’ll have what she’s having” phenomenon is why you find things like the roadcrash of minor celebrities in last Christmas’ retail campaigns (which store was Lulu working for?) and why it’s so easy to find a given piece of advertising “of its era” (aka “old-fashioned”): advertising styles, genres and ideas all run together. Even in the choice of voice-overs the same thing pertains: I know that it’s wrong, but I can’t see why all voice-overs shouldn’t be allocated on strict rotation to S. Fry Esq, his nice friend Mr. A. Davies and that Scottish fellow from Now in Adland, where we prize and Four Weddings. It seems many commercials producers agree with celebrate creativity and originality, me. folk are all too often taken to task for their (ahem) ‘borrowing’ from The same is true of how we go movies, sketch shows and videos about doing things as an industry: (and even sometimes student you know that no sooner some portfolios) but the real application competitor is lauded for their of Alex and Mrs. Reiner’s insight (the woman from When Harry Met new marketing gimmick (call
it “engagement”, CRM or 360 whateveryoulikeitwelldoit) than your CEO and planning team will be doing it, too – these ‘marketing panaceas’ come and go in the same fashion as advertising ideas and styles do. Of course, the same is true of the fashion world as a whole, which copies from itself endlessly, both actively (but we call that an “homage” or “diffusion” depending which end of the market you discover the phenomenon) and passively (that’s why it really does all look the same). Of course, that’s not to say that there isn’t original stuff being done today: the evidence of the internet suggests otherwise. The fact is that most of it will never get to be that popular, Long Tail or not; it’s just the way things are and this is hard for us creative types to accept, given our worship of originality. To make matters worse, it actually seems as if quality and talent really aren’t that important in determining whether something becomes popular: in one famous study of young people’s music, the researchers show how Justin Timberlake has an inexplicable built-in advantage over every newcomer (including me and my personal quest for musical success and recognition) in that he’s already got folk listening to his stuff. People want to play what other people are playing…
“I’ll have what she’s having”,
Mark Earls AKA the Herdmeister used to work in advertising but is much better now, thank you. His book “Herd – how to change mass behaviour by harnessing our true nature” (J Wiley & Son) is out now. http://herd.typepad.com
Having your first book published is like sleeping with a prostitute. You, the punter, want to be the special one that stands out from the crowd, the one to create that Pretty Woman moment, so they, the publisher, kiss on the mouth and tell you that they love you. But in reality, you are just another piece of trade.
This might well lead to a feeling that you are not fully appreciated, or they could have put out a bit more, pretended like they meant it. This is, of course, a natural continuation of the belief in middle class young adults, drummed into them by their parents, that they are special and different. This can lead to alcoholism, literature, or both. The other result of this drive to prove your ‘special differentness’ is the fashion in first books to contain an element of autobiography. As Colin Midson from the publicity department at Bloomsbury puts it, ‘coming of age in a slightly alien environment and feeling like the outsider’. This autobiographical tinge adds to the hooker/client relationship that one forms with the publisher
and increases the inevitable feeling of dislocation post-publication. My own first book, Looking For the Big B: Bollywood Bachchan and Me, at first glance an autobiographical book, was, in fact, an attempt to avoid being sued. The Indian mega star Amitabh Bachchan had suggested that I write a biography of him. I did so and, to cut an extremely convoluted story short, he flipped out and threatened to sue me “to the last drop of blood in my veins.” Since a legal battle was out of the question (Penniless Single Mum takes on Megastar with millions and Wins in Ground Breaking Case – not a headline you see everyday, for an obvious reason). As I wrote gloomily after the threat of law suits: 26
October 2004 I have become trapped in someone else’s life. I need to find a way out, a way back to into my own life, my own world. I am trapped like a fly on one of those old vile fly papers, every time I struggle to get off I just seem to get more stuck down. I need to get out. I need to find a way out.
So, I decided to write it as if it had all happened to me and therefore was less ‘sueable’. The result was a deliberately up beat comedy about the pitfalls of being a young Cornish lass in Bollywood. All jolly self deprecation – a search for truth – which was in fact a series of whopping great lies and half truths: thus covering my ass from litigious Urban Demi-Gods:
by Jessica Hines
‘Shhhh.. Got to type real quiet – Amitabh is sleeping next to me. I don’t want all the clatter patter to wake the poor man. I know I am supposed to be an objective biographer lady but he does look sweet and heartbreakingly vulnerable. His mouth is slightly open, his baseball cap is getting all squiffy and his jaw is relaxed. He spent ages getting things just right arranging and rearranging his pillows and his blanket and woozling about, sighing at me a lot in a pointed way. But then he seemed to press some internal button and switched off. Powered down. ‘Don’t do it Dave. Daisy, Da..iss…y …’ And now I am free floating next to him waiting for the lights and the big black oblong to take me to the next level. It’s strange suddenly being next to the real him after all this time being with the Gossip Amitabh. He is such a solid, large, statesman like presence. And he smells so good.’
…I was on the plane next to him.
I do think that this autobiographical version of the writer helps them to weather the inevitable dislocation that happens on publication and pushes them on to their next, hopefully less autobiographical, tome.
It was an autobiographical myth. All fine and post modern dandy thank you very much. As my grandmother always told me, fashion should work for you, not you for fashion. The unexpected result was that it enabled me to create a different, public persona: me. She has no mutant skills, other than being the world’s fastest texter, but she is like a superhero version, in a Jamie Hernandez sort of way. I transformed my recent past, which had been uniquely raw, painful and intense, into comedic slapstick. The stronger, faster, louder Club Anthems 2001 Jessica that emerged has been uniquely therapeutic.
Now that a film is in development, there will be a film version of a version of me. And the truth, that slippery son of a bitch, will sink further from the surface. The truth will come out eventually, but I am happy for that to form part of one of my grandchildren’s first novels about their mysterious antecedents. The Big B, Bollywood, Bachchan and Me, by Jessica Hines is published by Bloomsbury and is released 27 March 2008, price £8.99.
A brief history of viral
by Pete Brown
Word of mouth is the Holy Grail of advertising. It has been around since humans walked this Earth. It is the transparent salesman, your trusted friend, the perfect path from product to profit. The route to the Grail now has a shortcut - ‘Viral’. It is how the internet does word of mouth. From the late nineties, amid the hype of a clunky and complicated internet, came a breath of light relief. A friend emailed you a joke. You laughed so much you emailed it on. When enough people did this, it spread to global proportions, across the internet like a virus, hence the term ‘viral’. The seeds of today’s social networking phenomenon were being planted. In 2001, Paul Silburn at agency Leo Burnett created a TV ad for John West salmon. It leaked onto the internet and spread like wildfire. Commercial bells rang across the advertising world - make a funny ad and people will pass it on. It was free distribution, and significantly, came from a trusted friend - filtered and endorsed. The brand was safe. Advertisers tried to emulate John West with varying degrees of success. One of the most memorable was the Viral Factory’s award winning Olympics trilogy for Trojan Condoms which left just enough to the public’s imagination. In 2005 Lee & Dan’s speculative VW ad depicted the final moments in the life of a suicide bomber. A shocking subject, but it was the ad VW should have made. With millions of views, ‘Suicide Bomber’ caused such an uproar it made international news.
Viral was now in the public domain and an essential part of marketing campaigns. It became a must-have category in design awards. Viral charts sprung up. Technology came to the aid of kids in search of their fifteen minutes of fame and usergenerated content joined the mix. Websites like YouTube, Flickr, and of course Bore Me, served the lust for bite-sized topical and current entertainment. Cyber-celebs, hyperactive stop-motion videos, Rube Goldberg contraptions, blooper compilations, re-cut trailers and mash-ups all mingled together with their commercial counterparts.
between January and March 2007, suggested that blog chatter could triple sales. If blog chatter could do that, how well could Facebook do? Word of mouth has come of age social networking is the new black.
In 2006 Channel 4 and Bore Me launched the world’s first viral exhibition at the ICA, London. “Are virals art?” was the question posed by the media. Later on that year, mobile footage from an extraordinary event in Iceland appeared on the internet. A giant puppet strung up by helicopters was stalking Reykjavik! Blogs started chattering. Was it real or fake? Why? Who? It turned out to be Levis no less. No logos, no fanfare just Levis.
Viral advertising is also migrating to mobile. So far, it hasn’t taken off as expected, but with the iPhone offering a ‘full’ WiFi internet connection, it is quite possible that Apple will set the standard for portable devices – full (and often free) internet on handheld devices.
Viral advertising was also finding new paths. First there was email, then supersites (YouTube, Flickr), then bloggers. A study at New York University of 108 albums released
So what next? Social networks are more effective in connecting people than email. That is their focus, that is what they do. Facebook offers an API (Application Program Interface) allowing third parties to build programs that work within Facebook. Developers are already looking into how to take advantage of this.
Viral will follow how we communicate. After all, it is just word of mouth in a modern world.
Pete Brown is the editor of Bore Me www.boreme.com To click and view the virals mentioned in this article, please go to The Hospital Club website www.thehospitalclub.com and read the article online.
Camden Crawl > 18 April
D&AD Awards 2008 (Advertising, Design and Digital Awards) > 15 May
Essentially, a load of good bands play live gigs outside in the (fingers crossed) spring sunshine and everyone drinks a lot of Red Stripe. Hence, the Camden “crawl”…
Everyone innovative, enticing and digitally-enhancing is being rewarded for their excellence. Remember the colour bursting out of the building in that ad that time…?
Alternative Fashion Week > 21 April
The Real Food Festival > 24 April
There’s nothing fake about this festival, it’s wholemeal, it’s bran-tastic and it’s being held at Earl’s Court - so it’s kind of like a food concert.
Royal Academy Summer Exhibition > 9 June
In a nutshell: the largest open contemporary art exhibition in the world. Meltdown Festival > 14-24 June
This year’s theme is Ideas and Innovation, so it is at once analogous with our Hospital Club agenda.
Where all musicians, artists and film buffs gather to consider the emergencies of the creative world. No, not really, it’s a creative festival that spans 21 acres of the Southbank Centre and this year Massive Attack will be the artistic directors.
Chelsea Flower Show > 22-24 May
Glastonbury 2008 > 27-29 June
Setting the trends for gardening this year, including the “products” one can use… We didn’t realise style stretched as far as into the backyard.
No need for explanation. It’s a whole new and muddy world.
Museums and Galleries Month > 1-31 May
A rival to high fashion names like Gucci, Pucci and Dolce. Finally.
Amnesty International Media Awards 2008 > 17 June
Recognising excellence in human rights reporting and journalism’s significant contribution to the UK’s understanding of human rights issues.
New York Underground Film Festival > 2-8 April
Brooklyn International Film Festival > 30 May – 8 June
International Radio Broadcasting Awards > 18 June
This festival is in its 15th year and its tone is of a light-hearted and an “easy on the pocket” nature.
The kind of festival that recognises the likes of Suzie Templeton - our Mentee and independent filmmaker, i.e. a very cool festival indeed.
Best dulcet tone, Most Piercing Female Vocals, Most Internationally Organisation, Presentation of Information and Creativity and Use of the Medium, are.
Longhua Temple Fair Longhua Miaohui > 1 - 14 April
Shanghai Spring International Music Festival > 9 May
Shanghai International Film Festival > 14-22 June
On this day, the dragons of the Ming Dynasty return to the Temple to grant the peoples’ wishes. Definitely a worthwhile time to be there, then.
Themed Peace, Friendship, Blending and Harmony. Everything from Classical music to award-winning DJs.
It’s in Shanghai so the finger food will probably be delicious!
5th Berlin Biennial for Contemporary Art > 5 April – 15 June
Karnival der Kulturen (Carnival of Cultures) > 9-12 May
Berlin Philharmonie at the Waldbuhne > 18 June
Trying to exhibit the struggling young artists - people, we’re trying here.
Masqueraders, musicians and dancers, oh my! A festival celebrating all the creativity of culture in all shapes and forms (and floats).
So bring your harmonica, Phil. Fete de la Musique > 21 June
There’ll be music and dancing and music and …er… music.
City of Men
Director: Paulo Morelli Cast: Douglas Silva, Darlan Cunha, Jonathan Haagensan Brazil / 2008 / 110 mins / Disney Genre: Crime / Drama
Friends since childhood, Acerola and Laranjinha realise they have become members of rival gangs in Brazil’s underworld.
This spring The Hospital Club is going to Cannes, offering a club away from home with free WiFi. During the day it’ll be the perfect place to unwind, meet and refuel; during the evening the space will be devoted to fun and frolics and even the opportunity to hire the space for your own party.
Director: Kimberly Pierce
Director: Jennifer Flackett, Mark Levin
Cast: Ryan Phillippe, Joseph GordonLevitt, Rob Brown
Cast: Abigail Breslin, Jodie Foster, Gerard Butler
USA / 2008 / 100 mins / Paramount
USA / 2008 / 110 mins / Universal
Genre: Drama / War
Genre: Adventure / Comedy / Family
An American soldier goes AWOL when asked to return to the front line. If ‘Be All that You Can Be’ is the American military motto, then Sgt. Brandon King’s is ‘Refuse To Live Up to My Potential’.
A little girl enlists the help of her favourite author in order to prevent paradise lost and to save her father, who is lost at sea (somewhere around and near the island, on a rock, we hope).
Cabaret Night The theme of the night will be the ‘Oil Baron’s Ball’ – so get out your shoulder pads out and dress in glamorous ‘80’s excess or even opt for some rhinestone cowboy splendour. Doors open at 7:30pm and the show will kick off at 8. The fun will continue after the show, with more Dallas themed partying upstairs. This will be, Jonny Woo, at his finest. 30
Members’ Events Highlights
Fool’s Gold Director: Andy Tennant Cast: Kate Hudson, Matthew McConaughey, Donald Sutherland USA / 2008 / 95 mins / Warner Genre: Comedy / Romance / Action / Adventure
Matthew McConaughey (Hollywood’s human Golden Retriever) and Kate Hudson are in love but pretending not to be, and they’re after some gold, which they approach foolishly. That’s the gist, anyway.
Director: Sergei Bodrov
Cannes Film Festival See previous page – we’re doing it again but with you film buffs.
The Orphanage Director: Juan Antonio Bayona Cast: Belén Rueda, Fernando Cayo, Roger Príncep Mexico / Spain / 2008 / 105 mins / Optimum Genre: Drama / Horror / Mystery / Thriller
A little boy and his parents return to an old orphanage in the hope of reopening it, but haunting memories and sinister occurrences start to make them question the level of evil they’re dealing with.
Cast: Tadanobu Asano, Sun Hong-Lei, Tegen Ao Germany / 2008 / 120 mins / Paramount Genre: Drama / History
When you say Genghis Khan, what springs to mind is tyranny and conquest, as well as the establishment of the Mongol Empire. Apparently, Khan was an inspiring and fearless leader. Who knew?
Q, The Music Club, Live at The Hospital Club May brings, not Brian, but the amazing Elbow, straight from Bury (too many puns available here, to actually use), in this exclusive intimate acoustic gig.
Members’ Events Highlights
Gone Baby Gone
A German proverb states the ‘Man is what he eats’. If this is the case, come along to our Cooking Master Class and find yourself in your own mouth. You’re sure to be delicious, especially when brought into being by our Master Chef, Ian Martin.
Director: Ben Afﬂeck Cast: Casey Afﬂeck, Ed Harris, Morgan Freeman USA / 2008 / 114 min / Disney Genre: Drama / Crime / Mystery
Two detectives are hired to find a little girl who has been stolen. Or was she? Nothing is as it seems and everything is uncertain and would you like salt on your popcorn?
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull Director: Steven Spielberg
Cast: Harrison Ford, Cate Blanchett, Shia LaBeouf
Finally, finally, we’ve reached the Summer Solstice. We’re marking the beginning of our favourite season with a supper to end all (winter) suppers. Scorchingly good food, sizzlingly delicious wine and searing….tuna steaks? Come and eat, drink and laugh at the little people dancing around Stonehenge.
USA / 2008 / 100 min / Paramount
Forgetting Sarah Marshall
Genre: Action / Adventure
Finally! He’s back. A bit older, a bit more creased: “world weary”, if you will. Indiana Jones is, however, still achieving the unachievable and swinging around caves on studio rigging.
16-21 Cannes Lions
As in May and June, we’ll still be sweating it out in Cannes for the advertising festival as well, providing you with a cool peaceful haven with free WiFi to get away from it, and also the best parties in town. The venue will still be available for hire from 6-8pm.
Director: Nicholas Stoller Cast: Jason Segel, Kristin Bell, Mila Kunis USA / 2008 / 100 min / Universal Genre: Comedy / Romance
One guy spends his lifetime and the whole movie trying to “get over” Sarah Marshall, his childhood sweetheart. What is it? Once bitten, twice shy…
To ﬁnd out full details of all members’ events and ﬁlms, please visit The Hospital Club website www.thehospitalclub.com 32
Concise Calendar Members Event Pre-Release Screening Screening Children’s Screening Monday
Son of Rambow 9pm (SR)
The Cottage 7pm (SR)
Asterix at the Olympic Games 2pm (SR) 10,000 BC 7pm (SR)
Cannes MipTV Writing Salon 7.30pm (RR) City of Men 7pm (SR)
Cannes MipTV Creative Capital 7pm (GR)
Cannes MipTV Leatherheads 9pm (SR)
Cannes MipTV Jewellery Making Class 7pm (FR)
Cannes MipTV In Search of a Midnight Kiss 7pm (SR)
Horton Hears A Who 2pm (SR) 27 Dresses 7pm (SR)
Stop-Loss 7pm (SR)
Cabaret 7.30pm (TV) The Spiderwick Chronicles 2pm (SR) Meet the Spartans 7pm (SR)
Shine a Light 7pm (SR)
Nim’s Island 2pm (SR) Son of Rambow 7pm (SR)
Happy Go Lucky 7pm (SR)
Poker Night 7pm (FR) The Ruins 9pm (SR)
Book Club 7pm (RR) In Bruges 7pm (SR)
Q - Guillemots 7.30pm (TV) Quiz Night 8pm (FR) Chaos! 7pm (SR) Joy Division 9pm (SR)
Film Jukebox 7pm (BB&SR)
Armagnac Tasting 7pm (FR)
Caramel 9pm (SR)
May Day Supper Club 7pm (FR) Esquire Exhibition private view 6.30pm (G)
Leatherheads 7pm (SR)
The Game Plan 2pm (SR) Fool’s Gold 7pm (SR)
Flashbacks of a Fool 9pm (SR)
Beneﬁt Makeover 7pm (FR)
The Escapist 7pm (SR)
Nim’s Island 2pm (SR) Meet the Spartans 7pm (SR)
Writing Salon 7.30pm (RR) The Orphanage 7pm (SR)
Creative Capital 7pm (GR)
Cannes Film Poker Night 7pm (FR) Happy Go Lucky 9pm (SR)
Cannes Film Iron Man 7pm (SR)
Cannes Film Asterix at the Olympic Games 2pm (SR) 21 7pm (SR)
Wine Tasting 7pm (?) P2 7pm (SR)
TBC 2pm (SR) One Missed Call 7pm (SR)
Speed Racer 7pm (SR)
The Game Plan 2pm (SR) Forgetting Sarah Marshall 7pm (SR)
Iron Man 7pm (SR)
TBC 2pm (SR) Vexille 7pm (SR)
Speed Racer 7pm (SR)
Ben X 2pm (SR) TBC TBC 7pm (SR)
Cannes Film Funny Games 7pm (SR)
Q - Elbow 7.30pm (TV) Quiz Night 8pm (FR) 10,000 BC 9pm (SR)
Book Club 7pm (RR)
Mongol 9pm (SR)
Writing Salon 7.30pm (RR) Gone Baby Gone 7pm (SR)
Cooking Masterclass 7pm (RR)
La Scono Sciuta 9pm (SR)
Then She Found Me 7pm (SR)
Creative Capital 7pm (GR)
Poker Night 7pm (FR) Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull 9pm (SR)
Cannes Golden Lions TBC 7pm (SR)
Cannes Golden Lions
Cannes Golden Lions Quiz Night 8pm (FR) What Happens in Vegas 9pm (SR)
Cannes Golden Lions
Cannes Golden Lions Summer Solstice Supper Club 7pm (FR) The Happening 7pm (SR)
Cannes Golden Lions Kung Fu Panda 2pm (SR) Berlin 7pm (SR)
Mongol 7pm (SR)
Book Club 7pm (RR)
XXY 9pm (SR)
Champagne Tasting 7pm (FR)
TBC 7pm (SR)
TBC 2pm (SR) TBC 7pm (SR)
(SR) Screening Room (TV) Studio (ML) Martini Lounge (FR) Forest Room (GR) Games Room (BB) Bellini Bar (G) Gallery (CR) Club Restaurant (RR) Rocket Room
Film Jukebox 7pm (BB&SR)
Members’ events and screenings are released for booking on the 20th of the preceding month. Free Admission. To book call 020 7170 9303 or visit www.thehospitalclub.com
If you book and have to cancel please let club reception know so that another member can have your place. 33
THE DEVIL’S IN THE DETAIL That’s what we think. So when we put something on, everything has to be perfect. The venue, the food, the drink, the props, the signage, everything. That’s how we turn the hum-drum into the holey moley. From parties to gigs to press launches to screenings to weddings. (We do). Of course, sometimes, the devil makes the details very hard to find. 20ft lipsticks, Mark Ronson, 100,000 Swarovski crystals... Or more recently, a frog in false eyelashes. But for us, that’s where the fun starts. To talk events, or amphibians, just call or drop a line to Michael on the details below.
THE HOSPITAL CLUB EVENTS COMPANY firstname.lastname@example.org +44 (0)20 7170 9100