The 2014 VMA’s were filled with three F’s: fashion, feminism and fatalities. But we are only here to report on the fashion, as well as the abrupt, but fatal near wardrobe malfunction by Nicki Minaj. The VMA’s are never a real high fashion event, most artists or celebrities using it as a time to promote labels rather than focusing on the look. But all in all this event proved to have an average aray of outfits. Nothing super amazing, yet nothing super bad. Just average.
Jennifer Lopez sported a Charbel Zoe dress, channelling the famous Swarovski diamond Rihanna look at the CFDA’s, exposing more but less at the same time.
We saw Katy Perry take on a hilarious re-creation of the monumental Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake look circa 2001. Whilst Solange may have looked intimidating, she managed not to attack Jay-Z in her sleek H&M trouser suit.
I found Kylie Jenner to be a letdown, wearing Alexandre Vauthier, disguising her slim frame with an oversized, shapeless garment. Such an article didn’t seem to favour her in any sense, thus failing to give the 17 year old an appropriately mature look.
Alongside her sister Kendall, with an ensemble pieced with Alon Livne, La Perla and Giuseppe, her figure was strongly complemented, sporting her signature slim line dark look on the carpet.
Kim Kardashian appeared in a edgy more tribal look of Balmain Resort ’15, whilst Taylor Swift, for me personally, missed the mark in an unflattering Mary Katrantzo jumpsuit, with her signature on-the-verge-of-a-cameltoe happening all down there, again.
Iggy Azalea kept it cool in a silver fitted Versace dress with what I felt seemed to have taken inspiration from Frozen, although not too sure if that was the idea. The gown was well suited to her style, and I was lacking to find many faults.
Ariana Grande again used the carpet to show her independence from children’s television, as she rocked leather, on leather, on leather with Moschino.
But as always, Beyonce stole the show, in her black lace and beaded Nicolas Jebran gown. This dress managed to bear all but nothing with a fitted shape, plunging neckline and cutouts, Queen B once again proved she is well, the Queen B.
The VMA’s fashion continued to raise eyebrows as the night progressed. Throughout a performance with Ariana Grande, Jessie J and Nicki Minaj, a nip slip was on the brink of occurring. Clutching her dress shut after a quick wardrobe change, Nicki managed to avert a dangerous nip slip, whilst not subtly, she sure did handle herself well. Whilst this may have disappointed many people desperate to see her chest, it was quite refreshing to see her not blatantly exposing herself. At least not after the quick change.
Overall, the night failed to make a stamp in fashion history, although it did provide some temporary enjoyment. (Many thanks to Katy Perry for recreating a beautiful moment of 2000’s history)
Jennifer Lopez - Solange -
Katy Perry -
Kylie Jenner -
Kendall Jenner -
Taylor Swift -
Iggy Azalea -
Ariana Grande -
After considering these results, Kylie Jenner’s shapeless sack and Ariana Grande’s bondage inspired get up have placed them on our Worst Dressed list. Beyonce’s elegant, modern and body hugging lace gown has placed her on our Best Dressed list (Shock).
- Annie Harvey and Thomas Anderson
GIG GUIDE: TEMPURA NIGHTS
Brainroof Single Tour
The Lansdowne, Sydney - Thursday, September 4
w/ Peel & Shaky Hands
The Underdog, Brisbane - Friday, September 26
w/ Sulphur Lights & Pleasure Symbols
Grace Darling, Melbourne - Sunday, September 28
w/ Emma Russack & Snowy Nasdaq
The boy with the big nose and warm heart walked me to this bus stop a few days before. He didn’t wear shoes and so he inevitably got cold feet. He gets cold feet a lot.
The day I am speaking of, though, I sat at the bus stop by myself in the mid-afternoon, and read a zine I had prearranged to occupy my mind. It is from a collection a friend from school had leant me. Its name is ‘As You Are’ and it was written by someone called Chelsea Meyer.
It struck me as simplistic, and I felt a little superior to the small crumbs of truth, packed out as loaves, within its pages. It also had a little too much God for my liking, but Chelsea’s soul is clearly in the right place. The bus arrived and I got on. I took my second favourite seat, halfway to the back, and continued reading.
I go through phases of either detesting buses – when I’m stuck behind people who regard washing as optional – or finding a sense of comfort and peace in their climate controlled interiors. (I find what particular climate they are controlled to can vary greatly.) Thawing out in the warmth, I remember feeling very cosy but also a little bit sad. I don’t know why I remember seemingly insignificant events, like the boy with the big nose and warm heart not wearing shoes, or which seat I sat in on one particular bus trip, or what zine I was reading. Many of my most important memories are based on such things.
I came across a passage in the zine, as the bus was leaving the town centre. As I read it, I remembered one particular person’s who presence had not been physical in my life for a long time; a person who hurt me quite a lot.
“Everyone has the ability to be the best person they can be. It starts by just realizing that you are not your successes, or fails, or age, gender, job, or anything. You have the ability to learn from your mistakes and move forward. You have to accept that that is what happened, and you can’t change that. You can’t go back to a time when everything was good. You can’t rewind your life. No matter how many times you rewind it in your head, you can never go back there. Whatever happened to you in the past, is over. It doesn’t define you. It doesn’t make you who you are. It doesn’t make you weak, but it also doesn’t make you any better than anyone else. What makes you stronger is that you are able to accept that the past is done with.”
I made a pact to myself then and there, upon reading those words. I was clinging on to the past still; the grieving stage was over and I was still caught in a cycle of hating them or hating myself. I was still focusing on feeling like I wasn’t good enough. Time to move on.
Oh yes, I said it! Move! On! How clichéd of me! When I say “move on” I don’t mean the I’m-gonna-buy-cute-clothes-and-make-deliberate-efforts-to-feel-better-to-show-the-world-how-well-I’m-doing moving on. Nor do I mean I’m-gonna-write-bad-poetry-and-look-over-old-texts moving on.
I mean, the ultimate and very simple desire in not wanting to forget but to be able to remember without feeling any pain. To view a certain person and the period they spent in my life as done and dusted. To say “there were some very beautiful times and some very shitty times but now it’s all over and maybe one day we can bump into one another and be able to speak of our time together as unconnected yet cherished.” I hadn’t experienced it completely and wholly yet, but I made a decision. Lurching homewards in a climate controlled bus during a winter holiday reading the remainder of a zine, I moved on.
- Angela Christian-Wilkes