Last Saturday began like any other. True, tickets to Tottenham games had been hard to come by in recent times and finally being in possession of one proved only to perpetuate the standard pre-match rituals: we got to the game early, discussing possible starting XIs over a pre-match pie (and beer) and deliberating over whether or not putting a bet on first goal scorer as well as final score bordered on self-indulgence. Basically, without actually manifesting it in words, we were all in agreement that for the next ninety minutes nothing would matter to us except what happened on the pitch. Our degrees could wait.

All too easily we can sometimes forget that sporting heroes, such as top-level footballers, are only human. And, sometimes, this mortality exposes itself in the most awful, tragic way. What the thirty-thousand strong crowd on that infamous Saturday witnessed was no sport. As the young, talented Bolton midfielder Fabrice Muamba collapsed on the ground, suffering from cardiac arrest, and beginning an ongoing fight for his life, it didn’t take long before every fan in the stadium, no matter what their persuasion, became aware of the seriousness of the incident.

Fabrice Muamba

What happened to Muamba is awful and tragic. Possibly one of the most terrifying things I have ever witnessed. So this blog entry is in no way going to try and extract some sort of positive from the incident. On the contrary. However, I feel there would be little point in continuing this series of sport blogs if writing about an incident like this, which has, at least temporarily, united the sporting community, was deemed taboo.

If other football fans are aware of the ‘sport mattering because it doesn’t theory’ I don’t know. However, any question of the importance of game and sport became instantaneously and, I truly believe, unanimously irrelevant as soon as Muamba tragically fell. The desire to score a goal immediately transformed into the longing and praying for a man to survive; a prayer shared by the thousands present and later, once the news spread, by the greater sporting world.

Games will continue to come and go. Goals will be scored, penalties be missed, red cards received and replays keenly reviewed. Eventually, they’ll all become a blur, or series of memories, irreparably disjointed. Why? Because they didn’t really matter, because there was always another to follow, another stat, another goal? I don’t know.  What I do know is that Muamba’s collapse and the following events are unlikely to ever leave me, or any other of the thirty-thousand present that day.

Some of these groupings were planned from the start: I was never going to talk about beautiful books without mentioning my all-time favourites such as ‘Alice in Wonderland’ or ‘The Little Prince’, which have both ended up cropping up more than once. Other topics came to me completely serendipitously, such as Yayoi Kusama’s incredible work when my mum treated me to a trip to the Tate Modern. Most of them, however, had just been lurking in the dusty back row of the shelf in my mind, such as ‘A Primer for the Punctuation for Heart Disease’, which captured my attention years ago and then rose to the surface completely unexpected when, inspired by a weekly supervision essay on 17^th century religious poetry, I started looking at shape poetry.

But for all the beautiful books I have had the pleasure of writing about on here, there were also so many either whole other themes I had wanted to explore, or just individual cases which there wasn’t space for, or didn’t quite fit in any particular week. So I thought now might be a good chance to feature some of those odds and ends that are just really beautiful, but didn’t really fit the overall narrative (sort of like the deleted scenes extra material on a DVD, except hopefully not as boring).

Pop-up books, for example, which floated somewhere between book art and children’s picturebooks, neither categories quite capturing the multi-sensory experience of these three dimensional stories in which you can quite literally step into the world of the book. My favourite will always remain a book I myself owned as a child, The Nutcracker: A Magical Pop-Up Adventure by Nick Denchfield and Sue Scullard (2003):

For some reason, fairytales seem to be the stories most often transformed into pop-up books. I think this trend speaks volumes about the enchanting magic of the pop-up book, but also adds weight to the artist’s role, with the writer often fading into anonymity and the story itself belonging to an old aural tradition. And so the books, which could never be replicated on screen, become a beautiful expression of the artistry of book-making.

On that note, when writing about manuscripts, I became aware of all the different forms of book compilation out there, from tablets to scrolls to the potential of the e-book. Even if there are no pretty pictures, something has to be said for the physical process of putting a book together. Especially today when a machine can do it for you, I was intrigued by the concept of hand-made books.

On one end of the spectrum, you can find the overly decadent handcrafted publications of Kraken Opus, which weighing up to 37kg can set you back up to a million pounds. With a limited interest in sports memorabilia, however, I was far more attracted to small-scale zines sold at the yearly Handmade & Bound ’Affordable London Book-Art & Zine Fair’.

The 2011 London Exhibition of Handmade & Bound

Anthony Zinonos is one freelance illustrator based in Norwich who, amongst other art, hand-makes zines. In stark contrast to the Kraken Opus publications, Zinonos’ works, selling for £3-£5, sometimes only 16 pages long, are framed within an A5 page of white paper.

15slides zine

One of the works, entitled ’15slides zine’, is a series of collages made using elements and images from 15 random film slides bought at a flea market in Norwich, U.K.

inside '15slides zine'

Looking at these text-light zines, I felt a sense of disappointment that throughout the series I haven’t had a chance to enter the vast universe of picture-only books, from comics to graphic novels. These terms often evoke ideas of sci-fi fanatics or children’s cartoons, but a quick look beneath the surface reveals that such an assumption could not be further from the truth. Audrey Niffenegger, for example, more famous for writing bestseller The Time Traveler’s Wife, has also created a series of beautiful etchings entitled The Three Incestuous Sisters. What exactly to call it is an issue of debate: according to Amazon, it is a ‘visual novel’; according to Niffenegger, it is a ‘novel in pictures’. Either way, it is definitely beautiful, and it definitely tells a story.

'The Three Incestuous SIsters', 2005

Even after having taken this opportunity to round up the series with this assortment of odds and ends, I am aware that there are still so many beautiful books I haven’t had space for. More than that, however, is the knowledge that beyond the books I’ve mentioned and not mentioned, there is an abundance of other books I have yet to discover myself, and that thought in itself is quite comfortingly beautiful.

Photographer: Jessica Holland

I am not an economist nor a business analyst. All of the opinions henceforth presented are purely from my biased consumer perspective, but it is from this vista that I watch with grim satisfaction as the ship that is the videogame retailer GAME sinks slowly beneath the tide of 21^st century market forces.

When I was little, getting a new game was an event that provided an excitement that I will probably never experience again. It was in an attempt to increase the frequency of these events, by finding the cheapest place that my Mum could buy games, that I discovered the malevolence of GAME. Behind its glowing purple iconography lay aisles and aisles of overpriced software. What was more, the staff gave terrible advice, leading me on more than one occasion to believe a game was within my (unworthy) PC’s limits when, alas, it was not.

In a time before internet shopping, it was Gamestation (an entirely separate retailer at that time) that shone as a bastion of light in the pursuit of value-for-money games. Sure, I was intimidated by its pierced, bearded (occasionally female) custodians, with their heavy metal t-shirts barely hidden beneath the grey staff uniforms, but they knew what they were talking about! They actually liked games.

"How can I help you today?"

By 2007 I had largely migrated to buying my games online but was disturbed to hear the news that Gamestation, which still held a special place in my heart, was to be bought out by the tyrannical GAME group. This was it: the end of competitive game sales on the highstreet. GAME was competing with itself, and so could charge whatever it wanted. The prices in Gamestation rocketed. I had previously believed that GAME was solely patronised by well-meaning but uninformed grandparents looking for “a new gameboy game” for little Jonny – and what better place than this succinctly but entirely appropriately named establishment! Nevertheless, I had also hoped that a few of those birthday-present seeking adults might stumble into Gamestation, for it also had “game” in the name. Now, whichever way they went, those pennies were making their way to the same faceless, anti-consumer Mr. Moneybags.

But something happened that I did not expect. In fact I’m still not sure exactly what it was. Firstly, online shopping continued to flourish. With the burgeoning era of smartphones and internet access ceaselessly increasing, those same grandparents began to realise they could make their grandkids happy for much, much cheaper if they shopped with Amazon or Play.com. Online retailer after online retailer undercut GAME, at a loss to themselves, in order to attract new business.

Then, perhaps due to the increasing popularity of gaming, more highstreet shops took to selling games. HMV, Virgin megastores (when they still existed) and more importantly Tesco and Sainsbury’s got in on the action. And they could afford to sell games cheaper simply because they were all bigger businesses than GAME. In fact you might argue that HMV functions better altogether as a game retailer; not only are their products cheaper but they offer price-match on trade-ins which is something that GAME do not do. So now even if you insisted on buying physical media, you could do it cheapest anywhere but GAME.

Turns out that record player could also play games

There are many more general reasons why boxed game sales may be declining that I don’t have time to go into here: the rise of DLC that retailers get no part in, digital distribution platforms like Steam, smartphone gaming and dedicated used-game shops like CEX, to name a few.

It seems to me, however (again, from my ignorant, uneducated-in-business-or-even-the-history-of-the-events-I’m-talking-about background) that GAME continued to cruise on its name alone and continually failed to adapt. It had moved online but the prices it offered there weren’t even competitive on the highstreet.

I had no idea how GAME was doing until the stories I started to read in the last few weeks.

At the end of February I heard that EA games would no longer be stocked in GAME stores, which meant no Mass Effect 3 (one of the biggest launches of the first quarter). This set alarm bells ringing, and on further inspection revealed that this may have been because the publisher wouldn’t give GAME credit on their games. More games started dropping off the shelves and on the 8^th of March it was announced that GAME was slashing in-store prices in an attempt to minimise debts before it went into administration.

So it seems GAME’s example could be one that should be observed by all businesses: adapt or die. Perhaps GAME’s executives became complacent when they felt competition was all but eliminated though I cannot see how they failed to detect the array of incoming threats that have emerged in the last few years. Obviously I hope that no-one loses their job, so I suppose all that remains is to hope that GAME gets bought out by someone who knows better how to run a business and treat its customers – it sounds like American games giant GameStop might be the company to do that.

The crazy wife from 'Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown'

The film opens with a woman, Pepa, trying but failing to contact an ex-lover she has just been left by. In her search to find him she meets his insane wife, who has been in a mental institution for years, and his dashing son (the young Antonio Banderas), who are also clueless about his whereabouts. Meanwhile, Pepa’s friend asks to stay at hers because she is hiding from the police: she had been keeping her Shiite terrorist lover, who the police have arrested, at her flat. The lawyer whom Pepa sees about her friend’s case happens to be the woman her ex-lover is running off with. The film culminates in a hilarious scene where all the characters, bar the person everyone wants to find, end up in Pepa’s flat, along with the police, looking for the her friend. Pepa offers them gazpacho soup into which she has mixed sleeping pills to tranquilize them. The police pass out on her floor. Having realized where her ex-lover is going with his new girlfriend, both Pepa and his wife run off to the airport in a mad car chase where Pepa follows the armed wife who is shooting from the back of a motorcycle. The wife intends to kill her husband at the airport, but Pepa stops her.

Pepa accidentally sets fire to her bed

In this film the tragic becomes comic due to the parodic melodrama, the characters’ peculiarities of mannerism and the over-the-top dialogue. My favourite comic addition to the film is the ‘Mambo Taxi’. Everytime Pepa hails a taxi the same one appears with animal fur-lined seats (oh the 80s), an emotional driver with bleached hair and a sign saying ‘Please Smoke’. This quirky addition irrelevant to the plot is one of many and it is these little additions that make an Almodovar film what it is: fun, stylish and a bit saucy. Who says humour doesn’t translate?

However, with the idea of regeneration there is also the idea that something has come to an end. And is anything sweeter than dinner the night before you start a short-lived attempt at dieting? This week I’ve been thinking about last suppers, and particularly the hypothetical idea of eating a very last meal, a quandary that criminals on death row probably face. Confronted with the idea of meeting one’s maker, apart from a final cigarette, what should one choose to digest? Jesus played it simple with the serving of bread and wine (hopefully some nice sourdough and a Chateauneuf du Pap), but I reckon a three-course affair with olives and a cheeseboard is more to most people’s tastes, if you’re a glutton like me. That is, if the idea of imminent death doesn’t put you off your dinner too much.

The general consensus among some of my peers seemed to be that a Last Supper should consist not only of one’s favourite foods but also those foods that hold particular emotional value, maybe as a throwback from childhood or family life. By way of example, there was as much talk of smoked salmon, moules marinières and duck liver pate as overcooked roast dinners, egg and chips and fish finger sandwiches in our conversations. There were also shards of sentimentality about school dinners in some of the suggestions I heard: rice pudding and jam, braised red cabbage and chocolate sponge with artificial chocolate custard. It is funny that the idea of having a last meal should bring with it so many associations with important relationships and life experiences rather than simple greed. How else someone would be able to explain choosing rice pudding over all the other desserts in the world must be a testament to this fact. In the words of Jesus himself, it is probably true that man cannot not live by bread alone (Matthew 4:4).

Symbols express something invisible, hidden behind an exterior mask. With words, this exterior mask is easily camouflaged, by a double meaning, a sentence, or a narrative. And so occasionally, the whole process of extracting symbolism from words that might just mean what they say they mean begins to feel a bit ludicrous. Example number one, courtesy of Malcolm X:

I read Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’. The devil, kicked out of Paradise, was trying to regain possession. He was using the forces of Europe, personified by the Popes, Charlemagne, Richard the Lion hearted and other knights. I interpreted this to show that the Europeans were motivated and led by the devil… So Milton and Mr Elijah Muhammed [the founder of the Nation of Islam] were actually the same thing

(Malcolm X, ‘Autobiography’, 1966)

If you haven’t read Paradise Lost, you might assume that’s the reason none of the above makes any sense. But as someone who has read it, I can guarantee that doing so probably won’t make the slightest difference to your level of comprehension. On the other hand, you’ve likely read at least one of the books in the Harry Potter series, and I doubt that makes the surprisingly popular argument for the stories as an allegory for homosexuality any less absurd:

The story is about a boy who lives in a cupboard (i.e. “in the closet”). His Aunt and Uncle are ashamed of him because his parents were quite eccentric (i.e. “flaming”) and they are deeply concerned and afraid that he will turn out just like them. On his 11th birthday (i.e. roughly at the onset of puberty), the boy discovers that he is actually a ‘wizard,’ different in both style and substance from normal people, or ‘muggles’ (i.e. ‘breeders’). The boy is groomed into his new existence by a large, hairy bear of a man who shows Harry a hidden underground community of ‘wizards’ living right under the noses of the general population (i.e. the gay subculture). Harry’s first trip to this subculture involves traveling through ‘Diagon Alley,’ a play on the word diagonally (i.e. not straight).

(Source: here. Find more elaboration here.)

Clearly, these examples of ‘symbolism’ teeter on the edge of ridiculousness. They seem to have been plucked out of thin air, simply to support an individual’s personal motivations. What is the solution, then, when a writer wishes to express something symbolically, but they don’t want to remain vulnerable to the distortion of misinterpretations? For some writers, the answer is quite beautiful. It lies in the fusing of image and word, the creation of the visual symbol, a clear sign informing us that what we see is a representation of the meaning within.

Such formal innovation might be more frequently associated with the free verse of the late 19th and early 20th century, in T.S. Eliot or e.e. cummings. But in fact, we can go as far back as the ancient world to find one of the most obvious and ancient examples of visual symbolism, shape-poetry (or as the Classical Greek writers called it technopaegnia, which literally means ‘games of artifice’). One of the oldest examples we have is from c. 325 B.C.E., in the poet Simmias of Rhodes and his three poems ‘Wings’, ‘Axe’ and ‘Egg’.

From top, clockwise: 'Wings', 'Egg' and 'Axe'

The aesthetic and witty appeal of shape-poetry can mean that it is often dismissed as frivolous or empty. But much of the time, this could not be further from the truth. In the above poems, their shape directly reflects their content: ‘the axe poem commemorates wartime heroism, the egg poem celebrates nature, and the wings poem is of a spiritual nature’ (source).

Echoing Simmias of Rhodes centuries later in ‘Easter Wings’, we see in George Herbert’s thoughtful religious verse that the visual attention paid to the poem’s form is integral to its theological symbolism and core message.

George Herbert's 'Easter Wings', written as part of a collection entitled 'The Temple', completed in 1633

The fall and rise of the lines forming an image of a pair of wings echoes Herbert’s belief in the fortunate fall, and the possibility of eternal salvation for humankind through the redemption of Christ. And so, pictorial representation in fact often serves as a way for the poet to strengthen the underlying message of the words.

However, even with their striking visual impact, in shape-poetry there is still the sense that the picture somehow remains subordinate to the words. What if visual symbols could completely replace the words on the page and thus entirely eradicate the ambiguity of interpretation? This is the radical suggestion Jonathan Safran Foer experiments with in his beautifully moving short story ‘A Primer for the Punctuation of Heart Disease’, published in The New Yorker in 2002. The abstract describes it as a story in which ‘the author proposes a new way of punctuating dialog to denote unspoken aspects and meanings in conversations within a family that has had forty-two heart attacks’. No fewer than 18 new punctuation marks derived from the Webdings and Wingdings typefaces are presented to the reader.

Jonathan Safran Foer, 'A Primer for the Punctuation of Heart Disease', The New Yorker, June 10, 2002

Perhaps my favourite of Foer’s ideas is the ‘Barely Tolerable Substitute’ for ‘I love you’.

Having provided us with this new form of language, the story culminates in a fully punctuated telephone conversation in which the gaping gulf between words spoken and thoughts felt is highlighted. This, and the entire short story can be read online, here.

Of course, this does not mean that we should replace the wonderful ambiguity of verbal symbolism with pictures. But it does demonstrate, I think, that sometimes the silent beauty of visual symbolism can be far from flippant or materialistic, but in fact deeply and movingly powerful.

Where better than Milan Fashion Week to pick up all the trends? No other fashion capital dictates what’s en vogue quite so eloquently, so sit attentively at the foot of Mount Milan and listen what has to be said about what you will be wearing next winter.

N°1 – WHITE – is the definite light-motif for next winter. Cotton, wool, fur, even leathers will come in a shade of startling white.  A particular favourite seems to be the white trench, so be ready to fork out on numerous dry cleanings. Among the wide selection of white, notable were Aigner, Anteprima and Gabriele Colangelo.

N°2 – LATEX – Some might tire of the incessant fetish gear malarkey – but it’s back with a bang and it’s baggier than ever. Costume National opened the show with a black latex suit. Their voluminous rubber trousers were the second (more wearable?) option. Byblos suggested accessorising with latex gloves and leggings. No whips included, however.

N°3 – FUR – Animal lovers, skip to point N°4 – Milan will never give up its fur, in fact next winter will be more furry than ever. Fur inserts, fur stoles, fur skirts, fur bags… Fendi made a colourful fur comeback, but it was designers like Massimo Rebecchi or Maurizio Pecoraro that made a centrepiece out of it. Furry galore.

N°4 – GLITTERY & SHINY – another ubiquitous trend, whether it be on or off the catwalk. Sequins, beads, pearls, quills were in abundance throughout all the collections, with designers such as Gabriele Colangelo or Moschino laying particular emphasis on the clapper look. Cavalli remains unbeatable in the realms of sparkley, however, as well as that of kitsch.

N°5 – BEJEWELLED – in times of crisis, balance out dreariness with an excess of embroidery, brocades, opulent garments and baroque patterns. For inspiration, take a look at Versace (chunky crucifixes) and Dolce & Gabbana for an idea of what I mean. If you’re feeling your inner punk rebel against all the pomp, Frankie Morello suggested excessive studding instead, right down to stilettos.

N°6 – FLUORESCENT ACCESSORIES –What better way to be seen in the front row of the catwalk than a big fluorescent satchel? If the glad rags weren’t enough to get you noticed by the mass of photographers then your bag will certainly do the trick. It’s the Cambridge Satchels that are omnipresent, if not Furla also has a range of fluorescent bags to pick from.

N°7 WIDE HIPS THIN WAIST –by winter you’ll be sporting high waisted garments with a strong hip shape. Belts, corsets or skirts are wider than ever about the hips, and spread outwards from the waist – think 18th century basques. See Dirk Bikkembergs for a warrior queen version, Scervino for an equestrian take on the matter, or look at my personal favourite show which was Marco de Vicenzo. The laser cut leather corsets worked wonders and accentuated a wide hip. For those of you who are dubious – it looks better than it sounds.

N°8 SHEER MAXI-DRESSES – maxi dresses are sticking around. After the Angelina Jolie leg trend, you may have to follow suit. Sheer versions were seen closing shows such as Krizia, Aigner and Gucci.

N°9  LEATHER TROUSERS – will never go out of fashion in Milan, so arm yourself with a pair of leather trousers, but to change from the leather  skin-tight standards, go for the looser ones, such as Ermanno Scervino offered (get your riding breaches out) or Ter et Bantine’s wide-legged ones.

N°10 HAIR EXTENSIONS – this might limit itself to the realm of models and hair artists, but if you feel your inner Rapunzel trying to break free, Milan has a solution for you.

Ph. Marcus Ross/Jocks & Nerds

CH: Hey! This week we’re talking about the future in all its forms.When you started your website, you were already a fashion insider, so why start a blog? Where did you see it all going?

DRG: I had absolutely no idea, no plan, no goal! I literally wanted to see if I was capable of creating a blog as I had no tech skills whatsoever. It ended up being fashion insider stuff , especially when I found that that was what most people found interesting.

CH: In recent years, the media have increasingly loved to wax lyrical about the power fashion bloggers yield, to the extent of a blogger backlash. Do you think this is true?

DRG: I think we do have some clout. The more influential bloggers are very good at doing a PR’s job for them as they have so many channels of communication to spread a message – not just the blog itself but Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram etc. If you have an engaged following and an authentic voice then that is extremely valuable to a brand, esp if they are launching something digital. Those bloggers are few and far between but even bloggers with a smaller following have a lot of influence within their niche. It’s that honest consumer-to-consumer voice; a blogger is a trusted source within their peer group.

CH: Of course, the relationship between print media and the internet has hit sticky territory with the rise of not only blogs but e-publications and online magazines. Do you think print media will eventuallybe phased out in the fashion world?

DRG: I feel that the heavyweight glossies and bi-annuals will stick around but the mainsteam magazines might migrate online. Mainly because I can see from my own consumer habits that I do everything online now. Even the magazines I buy end up gathering dust because I am always on my computer, iPad or Blackberry.

CH: True dat. What do you think the effect of the rise of Tumblr and Twitter as kinds of miniature blogging platforms – and, by association, the ‘re-blog’/’re-tweet’facility – has had on the personalityof blogging as a global medium?

DRG: I think they make our attention spans even more fragmented and increase our hunger for fast information. In a way I think Tumblr devalues images as you’re just endlessly scrolling through, you’re not savouring them. But what microblogging does is make everyone a blogger. It means we are more comfortable with expressing and sharing opinion which in the long run must make us better communicators and hopefully better informed about global affairs.

CH:  That’s a nicely optimistic way of looking at it! Where do you see your own blogging baby Disneyrollergirl headed in the future?

DRG: I don’t really have a strategy, I just like going with the flow. At the moment, I’m rolling everything in together so I’m on all the usual platforms and doing non-digital creative projects under the Disneyrollergirl ‘umbrella’ which I might talk about on those platforms too. That way, as welling as being a blog, it’s my PR platform for other work I do. As styling is my background I really want to do more shoots for the blog but styling is a bit of a vanity career really so the paid work has to come first!

CH: Mo’ money mo’ problems! Finally, why ‘Disneyrollergirl’? (Totally refreshing in a sea of‘Fashion [insert alliterative and/or cutesy noun here]’, by the way).

DRG: It’s a mixture of a BeachBoys song called ‘Disney Girls’and my love of roller skating and Americana imagery. Er that’s it!

CH: That’s it from me too!

Check it all out at disneyrollergirl.net !